it wasn't me, i swear.

mayor charlotte to my left, council secretary to my right.  i, in my poopy running jacket, in the middle.

literally poop-stained.

oh, some days you end up going to dignified meetings with a spot of caca on the front center of your jacket.

today was one of those days.

it wasn't mine.  the doodie i mean.  it wasn't my poop.  it was my jacket.  my favorite (only) winter try-not-to-freeze-in-it running jacket.  and oh ya, it's WHITE.   and this particular shit was brown.  the very color you expect shit to be.  

i was going running immediately after the meeting, so i went in my running clothes.  and under the jacket was skin tight under-armor super-warm long sleeve, and so i made the executive decision that i'd keep  my crap-jacket on verses sitting in the meeting of the distinguished Women of Watertown with my big boobs in their faces.

and if the other 10 women surrounding the table, mostly facing me, didn't SEE the dung on my jacket, i am comforted by the fact that at least they smelled it.   i couldn't, but i have a notoriously poor sniffer.  it barely qualifies as a sense of smell, really.  but i spent much time sniffing and trying to see if it was odorous.   if it was, what to do?

leave the table, go to the bathroom, and wash the chocolate hostage off?  considered it.   but... then i come back many minutes later with a big wet spot under my boob on my running jacket (which i'm from here on out calling 'the poop deck').   and then it's clear to the others that it must have really been a product of Uranus, their suspicions confirmed.

 at this point i had the unknown working in my favor.  i figured at least some of the women probably only noticed the butt mud in a fleeting way, not giving lil brownie a second thought.    so then, if i come back with a big wet spot, then i was in there busy doing SOMETHING and it was probably washing off the brown bomb .. BAM ... i'm made.

this is only my second time meeting with this established group and i don't need whispers about my uncleanliness going round.  so i didn't get up.  i sat slouched a bit and with my arm covering up the #2 as much as i could.  for an hour and a half.  discussing important city business, giving opinions here and there, all with a silent poo-poo platter down below.

it's was spike the dog's dingleberry, by the way.   i swear.   he has fragile tiny chihuahua feet that get very cold very fast.  our little spiky has a hard time warming up if he gets too cold, so today when i took he and benji, the more sturdy toy poodle, for a walk (right before the meeting) i scooped spike up into my jellybean sling and cradled him close for warmth for the last half of the walk.

apparently he had retained a bit of his earlier dump.  spike didn't quite export all the chocolate.  thus, the smear.  the smear smelt round the table at b's on the river.