The Worst Date Ever

This week has afforded me more nights in which I have not slept than nights I have...oh and I had the worst date ever. G and I had a night in which Little was having a sleep over at my best friend's house, so we decided it was date night. Off to dinner we went, spending three hours talking and eating and drinking wine and enjoying each other's company. Love was in the air, romance was brewing and we walked back into our house to discover that one of the dogs had pooped in her kennel. Instant deal killer. So we clean up the dog, drag the kennel to the backyard, and steam clean the carpets. With the mood ruined, we went to bed. 15 minutes later the dog threw up...oh yes, she had been eating her poop so now we have watered down poop puke in our bedroom. We get up and drag the carpet cleaner to the bedroom to clean up. Back into bed. This time, she throws up half her stomach onto MY dresser. Back up, take all the drawers out of my dresser, move it to the other side of the room, and my saint of a husband is steam cleaning the carpets for a third time while I am lighting candles, trying not to puke, and beginning what is one more in a series of headaches for the week.

So that is it for me...Dogs outside. G takes them to the backyard and soon enough, 2 hours after we get home, we are back in bed. 30 minutes later, my husband is back down stairs letting the other dog in the house to stop him from howling at the back door all night. That leaves her outside by herself, which makes her bark every hour on the hour for at least 15 minutes.
So I have what is best described as a fitful night of sleep and one of bizarre dreams when I am sleeping. And when I say bizarre, I mean erotic dreams about a boy I am not married to and have not kissed in a very long time. The strangest thing is that it seemed real and I could vividly remember how he kissed. And so then I wake up feeling guilty for not getting to kiss my husband last night, but making out with said boy. Oh and I still have a headache.