What a strange day. It started off on a bad note when Mr Fink leaned over the bed to kiss me goodbye this morning with the words, "Good luck at the dentist's!" Argh, I had forgotten all about it. anyway, Little Fink and I braved it and she got off scott free and I had to have mine cleaned. I hate that. The dentist was so clumsy, she kept banging the cleany instrument on my fangs and making them sing. I think I must suffer from ticklish teeth and not in a good way.Had an enjoyable afternoon helping Nanny collect her new varifocals and trouser shopping with Little fink, she is so much fun to shop with - skinny jeans you can actually bend down in, what will they think of next? I liked the dusky pink leopard skin ones but she went for the plain goth black! Is this a sign of things to come?
After a lovely time I eventually said goodbye to Little Fink, Nanny and Shouty Grandad as they are off on the Grand Tour for the next week.
When I returned home and went to put Laura to bed, as I reached down to open the garage, my hand was covered in something sticky. This worried me as last week, some bright spark had let their dog do the biggest turd in the universe right in front of my garage door, it was so huge I could barely get the door open without touching the top of the poo with the bottom of the door.
So my first thought was, "Oh boy, what's that on the handle? How did they get the dog to do it up there?" I ventured to check more closely, only to find some creative oik had got hold of a jam rolly polly and smeared it all over the garage door and handle, left it to bake all day in the Spring sunshine and was probably watching somewhere nearby, laughing his ass off. It is so hard to drive a car with a jammy hand! I cleaned it all up and went home. All examples of a suitable punishment for the perpetrators to the usual address please.
