I'll sleep when I'm Dead...

I'll sleep when I'm dead... my credo... my motto... my downfall

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Tigger and the Comforter

The year was 1996. I was living in a 2 bedroom apartment in Cincinnati with my wife when she was still my girlfriend. We lived in a good area but the laundry facilities were shit, so i saved every penny I had and bought a portable washer and dryer. You actually wheeled it into the kitchen and hooked it up to the sink. It worked great but only did very small loads. We also had a miniature pinscher named Tigger. She was our baby, both in age and in love for the only "child" of the house, sense of the word. I was in college and working full time as a Designer. She worked 2nd shift and went to school full time as well. We never saw each other (much like now) so all of our interactions involved us passing through an open apartment door.

Because we were so broke, buying a birthday present for her was quite difficult especially after dropping everything on the puppy and the washer and dryer. It was decided that we needed a new comforter for the water bed (yes, I said water bed… don't judge me) so I dropped our last $75 on a new King Size Comforter. Fast forward a couple of weeks. Still broke. New puppy, new washer & dryer, new comforter, no money. It was college at it's finest.

She was working a double that day so I slept in. About 11am, I rolled my lazy ass out of bed. Tigger was hiding under the covers per her usual routine. I decided she needed to play so I got a firm grip on the comforter and in one foul swoop, ripped it off the bed like a magician removing the cloth from a loaded table. Problem is, not only did the comforter come flying off the bed, but a barrage of shit did as well. Spraying the wall behind me like blood splatter at a crime scene. Worst part was, I was also in the direction of the flying excrement. It was a few seconds before the gravity of the situation kicked in and I realized what had happened. Then and only then did I realize that the warm feeling on my face and in my mouth was also part of the same cavalcade of crap.

I immediately ran to the bathroom to vomit. This normal reaction was followed by the distinctive sound of my dog shitting all over the wall. Again. It was then that I came to the conclusion that today was going to suck ass.

The next 6 hours involved cleaning up shit, cleaning up more shit and cleaning up the shit I missed the first 2 times.

With all the shit cleaned off the walls, the floor, me, the bed and inside Tigger's cage, it was time to start laundry. First my clothes, then the sheets. All going well. Now the new comforter. Realizing that it's too large for the apartment size washing machine, I walk to the laundry facilities. EVERY single washer full and a line of quarters at each. Back to the apartment I go, with the shit covered comforter uncomfortably in my arms.

Even though I've cleaned the comforter in the sink to the best of my ability, the smell is starting to get out of control. I make an executive decision and shove the comforter into the apartment sized washer and hope for the best.

Three hours later. I've washed the comforter 4 times and somehow it's actually worse than when I put it in the first time. What used to be a huge shit stain is now a $75 comforter covered in hardened dingleberry dog turds. As I pull the comforter out, my girlfriend walks in from the worst day of work at the nursing home she's ever had.

"I've had the worst day of work at the nursing home I've ever had" she says (see, I told you) as she comes into the kitchen seeing me struggling with the comforter.

"No, I've had the worst fucking day ever" I retort. Apparently a little more aggravated than I had intended.

"Mrs Jenkins decided to shit herself, roll it into little balls, line it up on her bed rail and flip them at us every time we came into the room. Fuck you and your worst day ever" she says obviously unimpressed.

"I ate Tigger's diarrhea. Now help me with this comforter." She just stood there. Apparently I won.

After trying to wash the comforter a 5th time unsuccessfully, at the laundromat, I decided to cut our losses and dry it, baking the dingleberries into the comforter. Realization of the loss of the comforter and our current state of being broke beyond belief brought my girl to tears. Anyone who knows me knows that I can't stand people around me upset. The wheels started turning, I developed a plan.

First, I called around to see if our Wal-Mart had another one of our exact comforter. They did not, which actually worked out. Modifying the plan, I drove to the next town, about an hour round trip, and bought another comforter on a credit card. I brought it back to the car, pulled the comforter out and put our shit stained one into the bag. I should point out that it's about 2:00am at this point, in Cincinnati. The vampires are the only ones at Wal-Mart at this point.

Next, I drove back to my Wal-Mart and proceeded to walk in and bee-line it to the customer service desk. "I need to see a manager immediately." I said in the most pissed at the world tone I could muster.

I spent the next 15 minutes explaining to the manager that I just bought this comforter at the Wal-Mart up the road and showed them that it appears someone used the comforter, stained it and tried to return it. Here, I just bought it and almost put it onto our bed. I wanted a replacement immediately. Since I already knew they did not have a replacement, I opted for credit back on my credit card or cash. To get me out of the store, because I was apparently making a scene, they opted for the faster, cash option.

Moral of the story, when in doubt, Wal-Mart will let you return anything, even a dog shit covered comforter,.

1 comment:

  1. I'd be morally outraged, except I can't stop laughing. Even worse, I hate WalMart with a passion, so......it's pretty damned hard not to be impressed with the switch-up.

    The visuals of the flying dog shit will remain for a while. I take it the puppy was sick? How long did that last?