Dog Day Afternoon: A Test

The literal bone of contention was a juicy beef bone that still had bits of marrow hanging from it. Our little dog, Eddie, wanted it baaaad and our big dog, Earnest, did not feel inclined share it.

Not.one.little.bit.

Don't worry, these encounters never end in bloodshed, just much whining and sulking from the loser, who is always Eddie, bless his yap-happy little heart.

Today was another Dog Day Afternoon. But now for the test!

I want you, gentle reader, to imagine living in my house:

There are four children constantly shouting at the top of their lungs Why can't I find my shoes/backpack/homework/cellphone? Mommy!!! Grandma!!!! Daddy!!! Come here now! Then add the background noise of dognails clicky-clacking constantly on the hardwood floors as they tussle for the food The Punk has dropped under the kitchen table - on purpose - yet again.

You hear strange loud voices coming from somewhere and begin to wander through the house, searching, only to discover that the television is on in not one but two rooms, blaring at top volume, and yet no one is there to watch them. And - worst of all - upstairs, you can faintly hear the sinister whine of the electric drill your husband is using on something (you don't know what and you're afraid to ask).

How long you would last before you wanted to take religious orders and enter a quiet and peaceful nunnery?