All about nothing

I have been enjoying the weather, riding my fantastic bike and hanging out with my dog. Funny story about my pooch. The fire safety inspectors were testing fire alarms in my building last Friday. Having no choice but to leave my dog at home since I was unable to find a dog sitter, I locked him in the bedroom with the cat. This way the guys entering my suite to test my fire alarm don't get eaten by a Pittbull, Sheppard, Ridgeback cross. I arrive home Friday to find out that the strata slipped my ONLY house key (the fire guys used to enter my suite) under my door assuming I had another one. Well they assumed wrong! So I had to track down the strata lady who then had to call a locksmith to get me into my suite where my dog is frantically waiting for me and probably having to pee like a race horse.

So I decide to grab some sushi and sit outside by a giant water fountain in front of my building waiting for the locksmith to arrive. The strata lady finds me in the courtyard with tool in hand to try and slide under the door to get my key. With great success we get the key...I give her a hi-five and enter my suite expecting to be greeted by an excited dog. I open my bedroom door....no dog. I don't panic quite yet because Charlie has escaped through my bedroom window before and he simply sat on the patio waiting desperately for me to come home. So I check the patio...no dog. I start to feel my heart race, palms sweat and the hysteria sets in. I grab my bike bust out the door and ride furiously through the back trails calling "Charlie". After several minutes I start becoming frantic. Tears start streaming down my cheeks. I call the animal shelters as I grip one handle of my bike, eyes blood shot while people stare at me as I peddle past them. No answer...then I hear a voice say: "If this is an emergency please call..." So I call the number, another f***ing answering machine!

Now I am freaking out, pissed off, and not knowing what to do next. So what do girls in desperation do? We call our ex-boyfriends. Don't ask me why girls often think this is the best option. So I call him...because after 2 years of being split up I still have his number programmed in my phone with his cute little nick name...what girl doesn't have their ex on speed dial...duh (feel the sarcasm here). So he answers which is ironic since he NEVER used to answer his phone. By this time I am a blubbering fool and can barely piece together a sentence because I am so distraught. I can hear his concern in his voice...and he says he will come right over to help me find Charlie. I decide to ride my bike over to the lake near my house...the phone rings...it's him...and he had his mom phone the other shelters I obviously didn't know existed...any ways...they found him. What a relief! So now I have to ride back to my place where my ex is waiting. My face is crimson from crying and riding my bike like a 'bat outta hell' and I am feeling rather stupid to have let my dog escape from my house. We go get the mutt who is so freaked out...he is yelping like someone is torturing him...pansy ass dog. So I pay the 50 bucks to get him out of prison...gave him a big hug...called him a dumb ass for taking off...and drank the biggest glass of wine imaginable as soon as I got home.

And that was my day from hell.