I feel like I should be a character in the children's book 'Everybody Poops'. I would be the clean up person, the poop scooper, the carpet cleaner, the gagging glove-clad follower of the parade...
No such character exists, of course, but it should. And, it would be me.
My grandpugs are visiting. One of them, the youngest, has had some, uhmm, gastric upset lately. I'm talking the visible foggy paint peeling gas and copious amounts of semi-soft crap all over the house. I bought new carpet when we moved into this place, and I have tried to limit the exposure to nasties and toxins.
Suddenly, though, it is as if I live in a land mine area full of unusual smells and scary tarry piles.
I am thinking of diapers...
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