Saturday morning. Actually, make that afternoon. One of those rare and glorious Saturdays when I have nothing better to do than sleep. Cocooned deep within our blankets, my husband and I awake to the phone vibrating its way across the nightstand. "Your parents," I toss him the cell. I begin skillfully falling back to sleep, when Steven abruptly rolls off the bed. "You'll be here in ten minutes?"
The dogs haven't had their Saturday morning bath - and in our deep-sleep absence, entertained themselves by rolling in the trash, which they somehow knocked over.
I quickly scoop up the trash and Steven grabs the pets. He tries to stuff them into the tub, but I remember that our Pekingese needs at least twenty minutes to dry off: he is like a moving mop when wet, drenching all flooring and furniture in his path.
"I have a better idea," I tell him, whipping out a shimmery pink bottle of Good Love Karma. "It's natural so it's fine to use on them," I explain as I gently spritz the dogs. A quick sniff of their fur confirms that they have gone from foul to wow. I frantically run around the house, dousing everything in sight. Each spray seems to eliminate some of the frantic energy gathering in the apartment.
Finally, I turn the bottle towards myself. I can feel an instant mood shift as it works aromatherapeutic magic on me. Then I hear a knock, and I take a breath. "Good afternoon," I smile in earnest, opening the door.
