Light Bulbs and Bath Tubs

Hello all,

So, the other day I was talking to one of my friends on the phone, I had not talked to him in a few months and he didn't know about my journey to hell(NY) and back. I told him about looking at grad schools, how my life was a hot ghetto mess, everything. He said that he knew going to see Fuckhead was a bad idea the moment I said it and that as far as grad school was concerned, I probably wouldn't be happy with my decision if I rushed all of the application stuff to have it sent there by Dec 1st. He said that he went through a bit of self discovery while he began and left grad school after 1 semester and was now focused on just being happy.

Honest to God here was my reaction, "............................?huh." Happy? Happy. Happy, huh. I had seriously never thought about what would make me happy. Seriously! The whole time I was getting fucked over by Fuckhead, looking at grad schools, finding some crap-ass job, leaving a million messages and texts to Fuckhead about us and getting back my stuff back, and lying around the house with the dogs seeing that they do more in a day than I do, the idea of what would make me happy never crossed into my head. It all seems very Thoreau, whom I have always enjoyed, but I have no idea what would make me happy.

A few million dollars?.......Probably.
A hot new dating prospect?....... Maybe.
The everlasting musculature of a Greek god?........ Definitely.
Knowing that Fuckhead was thrown under a subway train and the remains of his body were eaten by rats that soon after died because of a rare disease contracted from his carcass named Douche-bag-asshole-itus? ..........It's hard to say what might do the trick.

About a few weeks after I got home, the first time, I gave Graham a bath in my mom's tub while she was at school. I cleaned everything but still told her that I had done it, just to make conversation. After she was done freaking out that I washed a dog in her bath tub, she went to reclean it and made me promise that I would never give him a bath in her tub again. Well a few days ago I noticed that Graham was smelling like roadkill and asked Mom how I was supposed to clean him.

"Well, can't you wash him in the sink?"

"Mom, he weighs 35 lbs. No I can't wash him in the sink."

"Well then, I don't know what to tell ya, cause you're not washing him in my tub."

"Fine, fantastic, I'm not asking to wash him in your tub. All I am saying is that if he can not be washed in your tub, where millions of people wash their dogs everyday, you need to think of where I can wash him."

"Fine."

The following Sunday, after Mom and Dad got home from church, Mom came smiling into the house and said that she had found a solution for the problem of where to wash Graham. Knowing that they had just come from church I told her that the baptismal font was not an option.

"He, he, he! No, no, no, go look in the car!"

I returned from the car with a 90 qt. plastic tub. After it was cut up, you could probably fit a dead body in it.

"Well, what do you think?!?"

"Uh......mmm-hm."

"Don't you think that'll work?"

"Um.......yep."

"I just saw it and that it would do the trick and if not I can always use it for storage for my wedding stuff."

"Let me get this straight. I can't wash my dog, who sleeps in my bed, in your tub, but I can wash him in here and if it doesn't work out you will use it for storage for your wedding business, where people rent your wedding stuff, stuff that was stored in a plastic container where I washed my dog?"

"Well, I'll wash it out."

"Like one might wash out a tub?"

"Just use it and tell me if it works or not!"

I will tell you if it works in a later post.