A friend forwarded me this commercial from about a year ago, but I hadn't seen it yet. It's quick - only 30 seconds or so. After watching the commercial I honestly wasn't sure if I was amused or mortified. I've never owned a dog. Do they actually do that?! Ew.
Once I got over the mental image I started thinking about Stanley Steemer. I know it's random but that's how my brain works. Anyway, Stanley Steemer used to clean our carpets growing up. And remembering that made me reminisce about my childhood....
I have one sibling, Julie, and she is almost five years my junior. We got along fairly well growing up which means we were only actively trying to kill each other 50% of the time. Fairly normal.
One day, when I was 8, I was in our playroom painting. We had the best playroom. It was big and low maintenance and we were allowed to do all sorts of fun, messy stuff in there. Like paint. There was a pocket door that divided the playroom from the rest of the house, and the rule was that the mess could not pass that threshold.
I had my paper and my cup of red paint laid out on the floor and I was working diligently on a masterpiece when Julie pranced into the room and, of course, wanted to help. Obviously I was not interested. So she proceeds to do the typical little sister routine by pretending she's going to stick her fingers onto my still wet masterpiece and render it a finger painting. Or picking up the paint cup and pretending she's going to pour it on my masterpiece. Or dancing around like a loon singing stupid songs and laughing like the little nut that she
This continued for what seemed like an hour. Really, it was probably only 3 minutes, but I had reached my boiling point. I got up from my painting and was prepared to... I don't actually remember what it was that I intended to do but I ended up chasing her in cirlces around the play room. Apparently Julie is part leprechaun. She jumped and ran and zigged when I zagged, and I could not catch her. Finally I lunged at her and almost got her by the ankle.
At this point I think Julie realized we were no longer engaged in a little bit of sisterly mischief. I was really ticked that I couldn't catch her. The impish grin left her face and she started running again in earnest. And so it was that she ran right across my very-wet-red-painting and through my cup of red paint wearing what I swear are the world's most absorbent socks. She streaked over the threshold, and she was gone.
I froze briefly as she zipped through that door. I shrieked for her to stop. I chased her for all I was worth -- over the snowy white, brand-new carpets and even over the couch. The farther she ran the less distinct the footsteps became until she finally stopped.
I can remember looking in horror at her little footprints. They were everywhere. I can also remember that sick, heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach when my mom walked in to see what all the hullabaloo was about.