Got Milk?

Here's a fun fact you may or may not have known:

Milk explodes.

I don't, of course, mean all milk. I'm not suggesting that we need to be on the lookout for radioactive cows or that the average American refrigerator is a ticking time bomb of unstable dairy.

I am, however, prepared to definitively state the following:

If, as a loving wife, you buy your husband a plastic bottle of chocolate milk before vacation AND he doesn't drink the milk before the aforementioned vacation AND the milk spoils AND you take it out of the fridge and set it on your counter so he doesn't drink it by mistake AND you leave it there overnight so you can take it out to the recycling the next day AND the bottle gets somewhat hot because the sun apparently shines directly in that spot, your plastic bottle of chocolate milk can ACTUALLY EXPLODE. 

I dare anyone to ask me how I know.

I also just double dog dared Opie to set foot in this house tonight and say anything like "What's that weird smell?'"

And speaking of dogs, you should all pause and try to imagine the reaction of the two craziest dogs in the known universe when they are flopped down, holding the couch in place, and A BOTTLE OF MILK EXPLODES.

Drama does not begin to describe it.  And I can't even blame them because I seriously thought someone had fired a shot in the kitchen. 

In any case, in these situations, I usually take a few moments to advise Opie how best to comfort his wife but today I am too busy cleaning chocolate milk from every surface in the kitchen to be much help...though I did say chocolate is always a good choice but chocolate milk could result in physical violence.

It's entirely possible I will still be cleaning when he gets home. It's also entirely possible that I will never be able to get all the chocolate milk out of the kitchen we will be forced to move.

And don't even get me started on the smell.

Mickey looks like he's been
through the chocolate war.

It's Been That Kind of Day

So, I just came downstairs from putting away laundry and noticed that one of the animals has knocked over a plant. And, just to make sure that I didn't miss the overturned plant, they have considerately spread the dirt over as much of the living room carpet as animally possible.

How all this happened in less than 2 minutes is a mystery that I didn't have time to ponder because I was very busy screaming at all of them indiscriminately (they all tried to point the paw at each other but everyone had incriminating dirt in his/her fur...except the cat, who of course has no fur, but is so often the plant killing culprit that I don't feel a bit bad at including him in my tantrum) and getting out the vacuum to clean up the dirt.

The screaming didn't phase them.  However, the sound of the vacuum is anathema in this house--the second I turned it on, I had 3 terrorized animals racing around the living room like maniacs.

At which point they KNOCKED OVER ANOTHER PLANT.

I'm not really sure if this means I have too many plants or that I vacuum far too rarely...but I also have an uncomfortable vision of getting caught in an endless cycle of vacuuming, plant desecration, and screaming for the rest of the afternoon.

And I'm pretty sure I need a drink.