On my way home from a staff meeting that was a close cousin to the second circle of hell what with the ice freezes, shattering blasts of fiery anger and sand storm of dull mallets to the head, I decide to stop at the roadside farm stand and buy a bunch of sunflowers. The thought being, obviously, that perhaps a fat vase of bright yellow sunflowers might offset the thumping headache engulfing my brain.

So far, so good, right?

I get home, my brother-in-law and his dog are nowhere to be seen?oh wait, did I not mention that we have yet another week-long houseguest with dog? But no worries?it?s all good?I?m not being sarcastic when I say I love having family here. I really do.

You?ll know when I say something sarcastic because it?ll sound something like, ?you want to go to a 9:30 pm movie? Returning here somewhere in the environs of midnight? Sure, great idea?our dogs won?t even notice you slipping into the house. Our dogs won?t set to barking as if Jason Bourne himself were arriving on our porch?three dogs woken from a dead sleep won?t have any need to ensure we are also awake and prepared for our likely assassination. Bye! Have a great time!?

But I digress.

I arrive home and decide to divest the champagne bucket of its spent flowers. In an uncharacteristic move (perhaps that headache is indicating the onset of a more serious ailment, insanity perhaps?), I walk across the driveway, up the hill?into the woods?and dump the bucket of putrid water and rotting flowers behind a tree.

(Why? Why put garbage into my own backyard? Because, I rationalize, it is all natural and I think it will be easier than taking it inside which means plastic bags and handling the yuck-- and well, the point being I think it will be easier).

Then I come back to the porch, hose out the bucket and fill it with cold water and the big, fat, cheerful sunflowers that are destined to elevate my mood.

Henry and Ollie come back inside with me. Daisy prefers to stay on the grass with her tennis ball and imaginary friend.

After I fix a plate of apples and cheese and lavasch?I step out onto the porch to bring Daisy in. Hmm, no little miss. I call and see her head pop up from?yes, of course, behind the tree where she has been rolling herself with wanton abandon in the wet, slimy green pile of rotting flowers. She is covered in gook--head to tail.

I?ve hosed her off, but have work I?ve got to do right now so her bath will have to wait. Don?t ask me why I?m letting her sit under my desk and lick my toes. Maybe I?m gunning for a Darwin nomination?

DAISY: Mmmmm. I smell goooood.

got 2 cents?