While painting the entry hall, my daughter let the dog in from outside.
First, my brain registered that the dog was inside, then I made some kind of a noise ("gaaack!" I think) and checked to see if he had stepped in the paint. He hadn't, but he was tracking muddy paw prints everywhere. It's wet and mucky out.
Me: "Didn't you wipe him off!?"
Me: "Well do it now!"
Daughter (said as she runs out the door): "I can't, I'll be late for work."
I ran, juggling paint brush, rag, and edging tool that helps you not paint on the ceiling, to let the dog back outside, while my daughter apparently ran back inside for something and tracked muddy footprints herself all up the carpeted stairway.
Which I had steam cleaned not even two weeks ago.
Me: "Gaaaaa!! Why can't anything I do stay done!?!"
I'll be showing my daughter how to work the steam cleaner tonight when she gets home from work.
The paint is drying in the entryway. I'm keeping the dog out for a while so that he doesn't rub against anything.
And in much happier news, my husband finally finished gathering all of the parts, and last night my son put together my new computer! I'm so happy! Now I'm back in my little office and don't have to steal into my kids' rooms to use their computers.
Maybe once I've finished with the painting (actually I'm done with that for the time being!), and the deep cleaning, and the departmental holiday party at our house is a thing of the past, I'll sit down and write. That would be nice. (My son just this second popped his head in and asked, "Are you writing?")