(Actually, you're lucky you can't actually *see* the real crime anymore. See those spots? Yeah. They used to be what I can only call Shit Paddies.)
I ran errands most of the day, including the bi-weekly trip to the grocery store right before I raced over to get the kids from school. I knew immediately when I walked through the door that something was, shall we say, AMISS. The dogs are blocked in the foyer and upstairs hallway when we're not here by closing the door into the kitchen, and the french doors to the living room. Even from the back door, which is through the kitchen and enclosed back porch, I could smell IT. Even better, when I went to open the door to find out what exactly IT was, part of IT turned out to be right behind the door, so I smeared IT all over the floor right out of the
IT took a whole roll of paper towels, plus several bleach scrubby wipes, which I used for good measure, to clean up. These spots may not look like much in the pictures, but they were each about the size of my foot, which is a LOT when you're talking doggie diarrhea. PLUS, I had to take the kitchen door off the hinges and haul it outside so I could clean off the bottom of it, which was smeared with IT.
Can I tell you how many times I almost barfed? Ugh. Thankfully the kids were here (I know, when have I said *that* during an emergency situation?!), and they brought in most of the groceries and helped hold the outside door open and bring me extra towels and stuff.
I thought it was Baci, but then DH told me that Someone sneaked downstairs and polished off the chocolate chips that Josie had left in the living room.
Oh, well. That which doesn't kill you, or make you barf, makes you stronger, right?