Dog Pee

We return home from our night at the museum to discover that the dog has peed on the floor and, in her shame, pulled her bedding over the puddle to cover it up, which, while cute, has created the equivalent of a giant, pee-flavored sponge infusing the entire apartment with the musky, pungent smell of urine.

I didn't sleep well on the museum floor, nor enough, and so I'm sitting on the floor in the hallway trying to figure out what to do, and my brain seems to be working rather poorly, as nothing seems right.

"Well, we can't wash it at the laundromat, since it's too big, and I don't want to make the people we usually give our laundry to wash it, and I don't want you to have to do it," I say with increasing despair.

"Scott, get it together - it's Valentine's Day!" Katie implores me.