A series of seemingly unrelated events that almost created a catastrophe: a story of sorts.

You. All. BUCKLE UP. I have an “Ashley-only” type of story to share with you, the kind that seems unbelievable, that involves like 900 seemingly unrelated parts, but still.. somehow ends up related, disturbing, and sort of hilarious. I’m actually super proud of this particular story, because while it’s absolutely Ashley-esque, Matt is the protagonist of this particular scenario. My outrageousness is rubbing off and there’s no one I’d rather share it with. Bless his precious soul. πŸ˜‰

So, to start: last week, the dogs had a stomach bug, a butt bug really. Poop was running rampant in our house. You really never realize how much 3 dogs can shit, until they’re all shitting their brains out nonstop. Like 6 months ago, I had bought a white rug for our living room (which LOL what was I thinking?!). This rug became a favorite spot for bowel emptying. It was quite literally shittastic. So much so, that we ultimately decided to just trash the entire thing.

Matt, being a real trooper, carries it out to the trash and gets the cans set up for pick up the next day.

Fun fact: apparently garbage day recently changed. We keep getting letters from our trash collectors, but Matt and I are in agreement… surely they do not actually need to talk to us. TO THE TRASH THEY GO.

Hint: you may miss important updates like CHANGED trash days, if you continue to ignore their correspondence efforts. 🀣Whatever. We figured we missed a day and had some weird national holiday on Monday or something and the trash would be picked up.. eventually. It was of little to no consequence, we just needed the shit rug ELSEWHERE. πŸ’©

Next up, Friday. I have work, like a lot of work. It’s an overwhelming and busy day, and I have to head straight to KC for a bachelorette party after work. Due to the busyness and my inability to manage stress well, I decide that I don’t want to get up from my desk too long for lunch. So I ordered Panera and have it delivered. I have the app that lets you monitor the order progression and updates you when your order is delivered.

So.. I’m watching the order get closer and closer. Then all of a sudden, it is marked delivered. ZERO PANERA WAS DELIVERED. I was stressed out and took it as a sign that I didn’t need the lunch break. But not before calling them and chewing them out for failing to deliver to the right address.

A few hours later, I get to KC. bachelorette Saturday. Side note: took a pole dancing class. That is not a missed calling me for me 😳. This is actually strangely reassuring to know.

Saturday night I get a text from Matt that said: “I didn’t appreciate how I discovered it, but you ordered Panera. You should have told me, I would have at least ate it.” He thought I drunkenly ordered Panera at this bachelorette party and failed to have it delivered to my location.

but no, I IMMEDIATELY realize my Friday Panera… was delivered to the house NOT the office. πŸ€¦πŸ»β€β™€οΈ also this was two days ago. The odor. 🀒

Given his text, I assumed that he stepped in it to be honest. He always has friends over to jam and as we know, NEVER LOOKS AT THE DOOR MAT, so I honestly thought someone stepped in my stinky soup and that was that. I kind of thought it was funny. I do the laundry. It was going to be FINE.

WRONG. Turns out our neighbors either like us more than we were lead to believe.. or they’re super nosy. Apparently, the trash can still on the sidewalk, the two day old Panera on the porch, and my missing truck had stirred up some nerves.

No, no Matt did not step in my soup. He was greeted at the door by SWAT, with the battering ram, about to bust down our front door.

They call this a “wellness check”. 😬. Turns out, when Matt has his headphones on, he can’t hear anything, like knocking or “POLICE” being screamed around our house. Our dogs, bless their souls, were appalled by the turn of events. They were trying to dive through the windows at the cops “sneaking around our house”. Protection level 900 purportedly looks very similar to “our owners are dead and we have consumed their bodies”.

So, like .0032 seconds before they bust down our door, and “neutralize our dogs” (which I am pretending just means give them treats and snuggles, instead of what I know that means), Matt gets a text from our next door neighbor to see if “everything is alright because there are cops all over our yard, casing the place”. Matt is none the wiser, he’s been in his musician world, and just noticed the dogs were barking “excessively”. Matt RUNS upstairs, talks to the police, and resolves the issue.

He did tell them that this is why I can never leave town, and they were VERY interested to know where I was, if we were fighting, and if he had killed me. πŸ˜…. These cops really thought they were coming up on the newest episode of forensic files. I may have to call tomorrow and assure everyone that I am alive and well.

All the while, I’m in KC, pole-dancing (badly), trying gross wine, and blissfully unaware. But still lowkey pissed about my Panera never showing up on Friday.

Don’t worry, I’ll be calling Panera tomorrow to pay for my meal again. πŸ™ˆ. But my Lord, all that drama for a bowl of soup!

On a more positive note: it’s nice to know we have someone keeping an eye on us in our neighborhood. I think if I figure out who called.. I’ll just give them my cell number.

Sunny daze ahead sweet friends, stay alive. 🌞πŸ€ͺ

Yes. That is the bride and groom tattooed to my FACE. 🀣

Published by SunnyDazeAhead

Well... it's happening, due to high demand, and my monstrous ego, I've decided to blog. Simply put, I can't imagine who wouldN'T want to read my crazy antics and get to know the inner-workings of my semi-stable brain. Maybe, you'll laugh (hopefully, WITH me). Maybe you'll cry or maybe you'll get bored. It's really up to you what you take from this, all I can promise is brutal honesty, a heavy dose of sarcasm, some cuss words (I am who I am, sorry dad), and a little insanity. My mom has also recommended I share some of my recipes.. so maybe that too. The face behind the blog is... hard to put into words and words are "kinda" my thing. I am loud, I am outspoken, I am silly, I am sarcastic. I am wildly defensive of my loved ones. I have an anxious mind and I spend a LOT of time trying to keep my brain from spiraling into worst case scenarios. I work hard to keep my mind a happy, optimistic place, which I have come to realize is not my mind's natural habitat. I spend almost all my time with my three dogs: Lucy, Brantley, and Zeppelyn, who I am convinced are the greatest beings on the planet. I probably love my parents TOO much, but I am blessed to share a very close friendship with both and it is REALLY important to me that I never take that for granted. I love a boy, I have loved the same boy for years now, and I moved for him and honestly; home is where he is. Fine, his name is Matt and he is most definitely TAKEN, so back off ladies. I am a KC Native; a Jayhawk by choice, and an Omaha- Transplant. I spent my entire life telling everyone I was going to be a doctor, only to turn out to be an attorney in the scheme of things (I am proud of that, it is just not where I saw my life going). I am often convinced that I should have been born in a small town (John Cougar Mellencamp- Style) and any part of my heart not occupied by the dogs and Matt, is occupied by the late, but no less great Star, my horse/partner/best friend of 15 years. That's right, I am a former "Horse Hottie" and it is one of my favorite things about myself. Otherwise, I try to be a kind, generous, and a good person. Sometimes, I think I am misunderstood, and other times, I am understood a little too well. My face will tell you anything that I SOMEHOW manage to filter my mouth from saying. Oh, and I think I need all baby animals: zoo animals, farm animals, ALL the animals. That should pretty much wrap it up -- I'm Ashley; Enneagram: Whatever. In truth, I don't know what my mission is here. I don't foresee myself saving lives, talking people off the ledge, or providing sage, creative or original life advice. I am not a parent, so parenting-advice shall not be offered. I avoid controversial topics like the plague, I don't have the urge to lead you to the Lord (but he is pretty cool if you are open to the idea), and I have no idea on how to teach, craft, DIY, counsel, or even really advise. But I can repeat what I have learned, I can tell stories, and (sometimes) I can make people laugh. Writing makes me happy. I hope my writing makes you happy. So buckle up, strap in, glue your helmet to your damn head, empty your bladder and do whatever it is that you have to do to prepare for a ride.. a wild ride. A star-studded, bronc bucking, rodeo type of ride... my very favorite type. πŸ’ƒπŸΌ Sunny daze ahead friends, probably. ❀️

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