Today is one of both necessity and fun. I’ve decided, instead of going to my Weight Watcher’s meeting, to head to my friendly Subaru dealer to get the required 7,500 mile maintenance checked off my list. That’s the “necessity” part. After getting that taken care of, I’ll head out to do a little metal detecting. (Yup, that’s the fun part of the plan.)

Around our house we have certain responsibilities before we can leave. Be sure that the doggie door is closed so that the girls will be safely confined. Then there’s the act of locking the back door which leads to the back yard and deck. It was then that something screamed at me.

I’d noticed this a couple of days ago but took it with the proverbial grain of salt. After all, the next day was garbage day so there was a reasonable rationale for it. Today, though, things were different. Today, garbage day had come…and gone and yet the bags were still on the windowsill. Not only were they still there…but they have reproduced??

My hubby has a tendency to save things. It’s even to the point of collecting. And that wouldn’t be so bad. After all, they are usually HIS things. He calls them his “boy toys” and they’re squirreled away in his highboy chest. (He calls it “the holy of holies.”) I find that to be odd — but not shocking. He is, after all, quite a bit older than I so he often does things differently. This NEW collection, however, borders on being scary.

By now, you may be curious about the aforementioned bags. You may even wonder why they “screamed” at me. Well, it has something to do with the fact that the bags are filled with dog poop! Yeah, that’s pretty disgusting. And you haven’t lived until bags of feces start accumulating on your deck!

I was thrilled to hear him tell me tonight, however, that putting the bags into the outgoing trash would be tomorrow mornings first job. Whew! Needless to say I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It’s a great feeling knowing that my hubby hasn’t started collecting THAT stuff. It’s bad enough that we scoop it up, usually, before it has a chance to get cold. There’s nothin’ worse than stepping into a fresh pile (unless, of course, one of us had decided to let it accumulate on the deck,  that is).