To begin, I was woken at 6.55 a.m. by DD3's tablet, which had accidentally been left switched overnight in the living room (where DH and I sleep). Unknown to us, it had an alarm set with an extremely loud fake cockerel crowing over and over again, and the bloody tablet controls jammed so we could not switch the fucking thing off, or turn the volume down. So the blasted thing is screeching " URR URR URR OOOH! " on a fucking loop at full volume, while DH and I are frantically trying to stop it. Just short of taking a mallet to the dratted thing, DH finally manages to silence Electro Rooster. Phew.
We then notice that the hound has puked on the bed sheet. Lovely. So off with it and into the machine for rinse and wash, then get ready to take DD3 to school. Back home from dropping her off to find that he's puked again, in the crate this time. He had a different food from his usual yesterday, and it's obviously disagreed with him, because he proceeds to puke over, in all, the sheet, duvet cover, matress protector, electric under blanket, memory foam matress cover, a rug, two dog beds, the crate matress, the crate blankets, and the sofa. I spend all day mopping up puke and loading and unloading the washing machine (7 loads today, and more to come tomorrow).
I try to grab some cereal for breakfast, but just before I take the first spoonful, he pukes more which I have to just cover with paper towel to deal with after I've eaten. I then grab my mug of coffee, but jolt it, spilling coffee over the sofa. More mopping up. Then I go through to the kitchen, and bring the fruit bowl off the work top, to land on my foot. Ouch. I start to wonder if it is Friday 13th, but the calendar flatly denies this.
Thankfully DH is able to come home early and aid me, as I'm up to my neck in puked on bedding, both human and dog. He's a star.As is our washing machine. Our poor dog is now settled and giving his stomach a rest. No more unfamliar food for him.
Needlless to say, wine has been imbibed.