This is one of those things that happen to you that will be a great story at the next get together. Unfortunately the way Tim and I live life and some what due to our friends and relatives (sorry guys) we already have plenty of them. So yes, we will one day look back at this and laugh, but really we have enough to laugh about and I just wish stupid stuff like this would quit happening to us.
Last night we got home and our door was barred shut with a long skinny board and a bundgee cord. We get that off and get in the house to find that there's garbage strewn all over the floor and my cookbooks are knocked off the shelf. Again strange, but we are tired, the cats are in place, and like I said before stuff like this happens occasionally. So we decide to head to bed and solve this little mystery in the morning (Molly is spending the night with Grandma Sue).
This morning I get up and head downstairs to the living room to find two piles of crap on Molly's quilt I had left lying on the floor. Next to the larger of the piles...
Mr. Hippy
with just a little dab of brown on his back side under the tail. Yes, it looked like one of Molly's favorite stuffed animals needed to start wearing diapers too. In hindsite (he he) I should have taken a photo of this, but when you walk into your living room in your robe Sunday morning and find two piles of crap that's really not the first thing you think of. Or the second or third either. Sorry.
Luckily it was pretty easy to deduce that it wasn't Mr. Hippy who perpetrated this because a) he has no digestive system.
So Tim goes upstairs to start the washing machine and I'm like how do I get this stuff off. His suggestion is to go out side and shake it off. Which seems reasonable, but let me tell you it's not. It just leads to a general splattering of the stuff that gets all over your lovely fluffy white robe, porch siding, and self. Yes, I probably should have known that wasn't going to work well, but in my defense this was the first time I've run across this problem. So me and my groggy early morning brain did the best we could.
So now the question is who framed Mr. Hippy? I'll keep you updated on this compelling mystery.