True Irony at home

Here is a weird chain of events that occurred just the other night.

Went out to dinner with a friend and her husband.

Came home at 8pm.

Intended to feed and walk dog immediately.

Phone rang. It was a relatively new friend.
(By the way, any phone call from a friend is such a rarity that I find it impossible to say to that person, "Look, I am really busy right now. Can I call you back later?")

So, we chatted for an hour, while became so engrossed in the conversation that I paid no attention to Max.

Hung up the phone.

Fed the dog.

Went to bedroom to change into more comfy clothes for walking.

Noticed that tennis shoe was sitting on the center of the bed.

Hmmm.

Noticed that there was a large puddle underneath the shoe.

Realized that Max had peed on the bed.
(By the way, this is not the first time. It happens if I neglect to take him outside when he is expecting it. And, this is the precise reason why I usually keep the bedroom door shut.)

Stripped the bed of its quilt and winter blankets.

Threw the quilt in the washer.

Realized that we would have no blankets, lest I wash and dry them before bedtime.

Took Max outside for walk.

Decided to take blankets to local laundromat so they could be properly washed and dried quickly.

I had 90 minutes to accomplish this since the place closes at 11pm.

I packed the blankets up in my huge Costco bags and loaded them up in the car.

I drove the car (for the first time by myself) to the laundromat.
(By the way, in the past, I would have loaded the blankets onto my bicycle, but my bicycle no longer has working breaks...plus, I am pregnant. Pregnant ladies shouldn't be riding bikes with heavy loads tied onto the back, especially with no breaks.)

I drove without incident.

At the laundromat, while waiting, I sat down to enjoy a good book and to drink a Pocari Sweat (sports drink) from the vending machine.

I called my husband. He asked me where I was. I told him where. He asked me how I got there. I told him how.

He got really angry and tore me a new ass.

I told him I couldn't talk right now, and hung up the phone.

When the blankets had dried, I packed them up in the Costco bags along with my Pocari Sweat, and loaded them into the car.

I drove home without incident.

I took the blankets back up to our place.

I removed them from the bags and re-made the bed.

I noticed a big wet spot on the quilt.

The culprit, this time, was my pocari sweat which had not been closed tightly.

The puddle was in the exact same place that the pee puddle had been.

Noting this example of true irony, I finished making the bed.

A puddle of Pocari Sweat is better than a puddle of pee.

I lay down on the couch to rest a bit before going to bed.

Suk called. He seemed to want to continue tearing me a new ass.

It got ugly...real ugly.

Had I been more careful in the first place, none of this would have happened.