Not all heroes wear capes. Sometimes they wear bathrobes.

At 3:38 this morning my dog, Archer, began to whine. This was not his, "I'm bored," whine. This was his, "Please can you take me out right now because if you don't I'm going to make a big mess on the floor," whine. 

I grunted, pushed myself up, and stumbled to find something to cover up my nightgown. I put on my big fluffy bathrobe, because it's not like I'm going to run into anyone at 3:38 on a Monday morning. I grabbed the keys and stumbled outside with Archer. 

Now I'm gonna stop right here and warn you. This trip outside ends in grossness. I kept the description to, what I feel is, a tasteful minimum, but maybe you don't want to read about it. This is your chance to stop reading. You've been warned.