On warning

What a waste last night was! Of course, Tweetie was right on time and covered that cold sore like a champ. I packed up Smudge in the dog purse and headed off to the opening. No red carpet, what? Just walked in, no photo ops - nada (that's spanish). Whatever. The canapes were cold and there was a serious derth of famous people. I swear I am so over this town.
This morning, Knute AGAIN failed to bring in the paper prior to my waking up. He is on warning. Again. Last time, he let me run out of Q-Tips. Unacceptable. One time, he left the kitchen door open when the caterers were arriving for a bridal shower (Terry's daughter) and Smudge got out. Of course, Smudge is so small that she can hide anywhere. Turns out she curled up in a flower pot and went to sleep, but she could have been lost forever. Plus, I heard there are dog-kidnappers in this area, the take people's dogs and ask for ransom, it happened to my neighbor's friend. Anyway, Knute was on warning then, and he walked the straight and narrow for like two weeks before he made another mistake. That was when he left my hair dryer plugged in and I swear he did that on purpose. I should have fired him then. If he didn't know every maitre d' in this town, he'd have been gone long ago.