So the dogs went to the dog dentist yesterday because is life is glamorous. I covered afternoon kid doctor appointments where, no shit, this giant baby head picture is on the wall:
It reminds me of the disembodied baby-head from the Teletubbies, which has me scrambling to look up a blog post I read years ago where they describe the sun on the show as “Kraken-sun-baby”. This amuses me.
This is all irrelevant. I’M JUST SETTING THE SCENE, PEOPLE. Me, at the doctor’s office, giant baby head painting looming over me.
Matt is covering dog pick up.
Matt texts me to say that he put the $739 dog dentist bill on our debit card despite my instructions to put it on the Amex, because the dog dentist doesn’t take Amex.
I send him an immediate text back: WE DON’T HAVE THAT IN CHECKING RIGHT NOW. Transfer $1000 from savings to checking immediately.
Then I text him the bank website.
Then I text him, in quick succession, hints for our username and password in case he doesn’t remember them.
Then I text him to see if he figured out my hints.
Then I text him to tell him to destroy the text conversation so that nobody can figure out our bank login. Unless they want to pay the dog dentist bill, in which case, BE MY GUEST.
Then I don’t hear from him for an eternity or at least thirty seconds.
So I text him in all caps to CONFIRM RECEIPT OF MY TEXTS.
Then I text him in all caps to CONFIRM TRANSFER OF FUNDS.
Then I leave him a voice message repeating all the previous information.
Then I wait. And worry about my credit score. Which is excellent, THANK YOU VERY MUCH, but won’t be, if there are no funds in checking to cover the goddamn dog dentist bill.
Hours or seconds later, Matt texts to confirm transfer of funds.
Then I text him “Thank God.”
Then I text him “I was SO SO worried.”
Then I text him “I am SO SO relieved.”
Then I take an inventory of my mind to latch on to my next worry, while the giant baby head leers down upon me, maniacally grinning.
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