Dopplegangers

What a day.  I spent the morning with Max who enjoys it when I tickle his sides and seems to spend an inordinate amount of time laughing at me (is there something about me that is laughable?  I'm beginning to wonder if I should take offense.)  Then I got my hair done and came home and the substitute cleaning lady was here.  Here is our exact conversation:

Me:  Hi
Her:  Mucho cleaning
Me:  Ok looks good.
Her:  Mucho cleaning bathroom voy a hotel Sweeden.
Me:  Ok??
Her:  Mucho cleaning
Me:  I'm going to lay down.
Her:  ???
Me:  (miming sleeping )
Her:  Todo cleaning es OK?
Me:  (laying on bed)
Her:  Muy sleepy.

Don't get me wrong; I could have conducted all of the conversation in Spanish because I gots me those kind of linguistic skills and by that I mean I had passed the AP Spanish exam in high school and my favorite band of all time is La Ley and also I saw Juanes in concert.  I could have said "Voy a dormir.   Tengo sueño." without even a second thought, but I wasn't feeling it.  My fog filled lethargic brain only wanted to lay down.  And I'd be lying if I didn't say I felt a little bit like a jerk because I didn't make more of a linguistic effort.  Lo siento.

Now, I'm going to need for everyone to put his or her imagination cap on, you know the cap you wear when you are trying to use your imagination.  FYI: It's imaginary.  Go ahead place your cap gingerly on your head and imagine the exact opposite of me and the Saratoga Animal Shelter.  What do you probably see?  My new favorite blog theenchatedhome.blogspot.com.  I can't even say how I came across this the other day, but it is now my favorite and I have spent hours clicking on links.  I am considering it training for when I become I Real Housewife of ____ because I don't want to be the housewife that fucks it all up her first episode in.  While reading this blog and others linked to it, you will notice there is an absence of handymen who come to fix the warped garage door and broken big garage door and who remove a dead mouse from the garage in the process.  There is also an absence of holes in the drywall from wayward animals.  Additionally there are not any ducks, unless they are on a platter.  They also don't find randomly placed hammers in the liquor cabinet.  They have, in essence, the opposite of my life.

One of the links asked the question "What if your blog was a room?"  So I asked myself, "What if Me and My Pack of Dogs was a room?"  And here's what I came up with:  Only half of the shit in the room would work properly and the other half would work intermittently.  There would be a doggie door and a broken wine glass on the floor, having been knocked over by Randi Unadopted in an exuberant entrance to the room.  One or more dogs would be licking his non-existent balls.