It occurred to me that I have been posting an inordinate
amount of Wesley-isms. So today, the
focus is on Regan. At 9:12 a.m. she
managed to spout off FIVE different excuses on why she can’t roll the garbage
can to the street for pickup.
1.
“I don’t have any shoes.” While I know Dave and I are not the Donald
Trump family of Georgia, I do know for a fact she has shoes and in no
way does she resemble a poor child of Haiti going barefoot throughout the
countryside. She, again, lost her shoes
thus re-earning the name “Princess Lose-It”.
2.
“I can’t wear your shoes.” I point out that she
has been stealing my food, my towels and my drinks (non-alcoholic, of course)
for 10 years and she is in no danger of contracting the deadly Mommy Cooties.
3.
“I can’t find the bug spray.” You might just think
that this might fall under Excuse #1 but I was not asking her to undertake an arduous
hike through the wilds of the African jungle.
Just roll the stupid bin to the street from the concrete pad to the
road. She would have never left the
safety of the driveway.
4.
“I saw the garbage truck go by.” Nice try. The
truck that rumbled by was hauling a back-hoe.
There is a distinct difference in the sound and appearance of Peach
State Sanitation.
5.
“I am not strong enough to pull a full trash bin
to the street. The pizza box keeps
falling out.” Again Dave and I are not fabulously wealthy but we manage to feed her
regularly including the aforementioned Little Caesar’s Pizza box from last
night.
By the time it was said and done, Peach State was patiently
waiting for our trash bin. I was half
tempted to throw Regan in the bin but I refrained.
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