It’s eight a.m., and I can already tell it’s going to be A Day.
It all started, actually, last night. Last night, one of our dogs,
Lucy, developed a urinary tract infection (also known as a
UTI). Which was not pleasant for anyone, but most
especially for me, as I sleep with Lucy. And there’s nothing
quite so special as waking up at four a.m. to find a
dachshund peeing on your chest. Happily. Like, “Yay!
Look, I had to go!”
So I had to get up at four a.m. to shower, change, strip the
bed, and put on new sheets. And then I went back to bed,
only to get up again about seventeen minutes later. For
work. Grr. And this is after I worked on trial preparations
until well after 2 a.m. So the disjointed quality you see in
this essay is the direct result of an acute case of sleep
depravation, as well as a potential side effect of dog urine
And guess what I discovered when I left the house? Well.
Know what it never, ever does in Atlanta? Snow. And yet,
last night, the weather gods, in their infinite wisdom, decided
that TODAY would be a good day to release the white
wonderland on our used-to-be-warm (as in, wasn’t I wearing
a tank top on Sunday?) city. Sigh. When it rains, it...snows,
I guess. If it is cold enough.
So I got to the office, and was walking ever so slowly to
prevent wiping the hell out on the ice, when a huge geyser
of slush decided to erupt from the top of the parking garage
and fall directly on my forehead. Which caused me to fall
down. And also, to have wet hair. And also, to curse the
And then I went up to the office, to determine that I am the
only attorney who had even bothered coming in. Nice! Y’
all? Hi. We’re going to court at 11:30. Some help here.
Please. I am smiling on the outside, but in my head, the little
paranoid girl is screaming DON’T MAKE ME GO ALONE I’M
TOO YOUNG AND PRETTY. Like going to court is the
equivalent of going alone into the ghetto at two a.m. while
wearing sixty-three Rolexes on each arm. (Rolexi?) Or to
prison. Nice how my mind works. Nice that everyone in
Atlanta feels they are snowed in because there is a quarter
inch of white shit on the ground. Goodness, this weather
sure is...inclement. Time to go buy bottled water and bread!
But back to my poor mind. Know what else my mind has
already done this morning? Enabled me to have a
ridiculously embarrassing conversation with a partner over
the phone. Do y’all know what an IUD is? It’s a birth control
thingy. It is inserted in...actually, ew. It’s too early in the
morning to use the word “inserted.” Or any of the other
words I was going to put in that sentence. Okay, look, if you
don’t know what an IUD is, just looky here. Go on. I’ll wait.
Okay. Now that we are all on the same page. Remember, I
am sleep deprived. I was peed on last night. I am nervous
about going to court, and also, I am just sort of borderline
crazy to start with.
So this morning. I was talking to the partner on the phone,
and he casually asked me about my dogs. And because I
was not thinking–at all–I told him that one of my dogs was
actually sick. And I was going to tell him about the urinary
tract infection, or UTI, but instead, this is how the
conversation went down:
So, how are your dogs doing?
Fine. They’re fine, thanks.
Except one has an IUD.
(Notice. A UTI? The infection. IUD? The device for
inserting, discussed above.)
An IUD. You know.
I thought...well. I didn’t know animals
Oh, yes. Anyone can get an IUD.
Well, not men.
Oh, yeah. Men, too. You’ve never had one?
Well, they suck. Yeah,
anyone can have an IUD.
They can not!
Sure they can! I mean, if you
can pee, you can get an IUD.
GAH! No! Where would...
where would it go?
I mean, where would a man put it?
Ew. Well, I’m sure you can imagine.
No. As a matter of fact, I can’t.
I thought that an IUD kept you from getting
Well, maybe...that’s a side effect?
I’ve never heard that.
What?! A side effect?
Well, I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.
But...! But an IUD is a birth control device!
A...what? No! An IUD is...is...oh.
A BIRTH CONTROL DEVICE.
Yes. And this conversation is beginning
to make a lot more sense right now.
Okay, so it has been established that I am a dumbass. This
is sort of like the time I had to lead a zillion people around on
a campus tour at my college, and instead of telling them that
the location was a national arboretum, as it stated in my
script, I helpfully informed them that they were standing in
the middle of an arbitrary. A national one. Apparently, this
is a definition I made up for a word that already had a
perfectly acceptable definition. One that has nothing to do
Or the time I informed someone that they needed to get off
of my propitory. When you take your property? And your
territory? And you put them together? That’s your
propitory. Just so you know. This word I made up
completely. Don't steal it. It's mine.
Sigh. Well, off to court. Y’all wish me luck. But honestly, if I
have any more run-ins with falling ice, or pee, or UTIs, or
IUDs, or anything else with initials today? I’m going AWOL.
And I'm taking my propitory with me.