So, I'm not going to post my super Lost recap extravaganza because I am still trying scoop up my brains that were BLOWN. Holy crap, that was something. Instead, I will tell you about my night after Lost ended.
We had storms here last night and our dog Zoey is terrified of them. She has no problems going after a giant rottweiler or continuing her epic battle between herself and the evil squirrels that live in our backyard and taunt her, but somehow thunder will bring her to her knees. Normally, she will just get really close to us, like try to crawl INSIDE of us, and she'll still be upset but it's not that bad. Well, last night was different. We went to bed late because my sister and I were on the phone discussing Lost and then after that I got sucked into watching 50 First Dates (thanks, Lizzy) and that didn't end until after midnight. During all of this, it was storming but Zoey was only upset enough to sit on the bed and pop her head up a few times when it would thunder. After I turned the TV off, that's when the shit hit the fan. The storm had gotten worse and it was pretty loud and soon she was up by our heads trying to crawl up on Jeff's pillow. Now Zoey is no stranger to a meal so there wasn't much room for her up there. She then tried to jump onto his nightstand, why I don't know, so he moved her back down to the end of the bed. She proceeded to jump down, run into the bathroom and scratch at the side of the tub so I went in there and put her in the tub thinking maybe she would feel safer but all she did was try to climb back out. I took her out, brought her back to bed and tried to calm her down but she was shaking and I felt bad for her but it wasn't THAT bad out and this was a little extreme. She refused to sit still and kept pacing the bed until she jumped down again, this time to try to crawl her fat ass under Jeff's side table, which has a shelf that's only abut 6 inches off the ground. Obviously, this was not going to work but she kept up and was scratching and clawing and it was driving us BANANAS. We were both trying to sleep and at this point it was 1am and she was not settling down. We tried to comfort her AGAIN and then Jeff went to get her cage. We brought it in thinking she would go in and go to sleep, but she just went in and then right back out and resumed scratching on everything in the room including the closet, bathroom door, bathtub, bed frame and my dirty clothes basket. I was VERY TIRED now and was getting pissed because there was nothing we could do for her so I finally put the pillow over my head and figured she would work it out.
Well, a couple hours later, I felt her run up to me so I pulled the sheets back so she could snuggle in and everything was okay until her head popped up and I heard a noise. I was like "what the.." and all of a sudden, SHE THROWS UP ON ME. The dog effing threw up on me in bed at 3am. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? I (gently) threw her off the bed and ran into the bathroom yelling obscenities and got a towel to mop up the puke that was all over my nice clean sheets. She had curled up, presumably having been soothed to sleep by this so now I was the only one up. I tried to share my joy with Jeff but he was sound asleep. I had to clean me, my pillow and the whole area I sleep in and ended up sleeping on a towel in lieu of changing the sheets again. I wasn't able to really go back to sleep after this because dog puke does not smell good contrary to popular belief. Everyone else slept just fine.
So, needless to say, I'm not exactly in the most sunshiny mood today and if it storms again tonight, which its supposed to, you can find me at the Hampton Inn. One room. One guest. Me.