You're shitting me, right?

This is so ridiculous I can't even believe it's true, but I swear I'm not making it up. The woman that expressed great interest in our house at the open house on Sunday came by to look at it again today. Which is great, except that apparently, for the first time since he was a puppy, Max took a dump in the house. Jason came home and found it, with a footprint across the middle of it, and then a series of shitty footprints leading across the carpet, through the laundry room, and out the back door. I'm praying that, as with getting hit by bird shit, having a prospective buyer step in dog shit while inspecting your house is good luck. Oy.