Honey, I’m Home!

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The bachelor party for the dog and I is now officially over.

She’s home, and it’s great. The dog was a little indifferent, which is surprising. I thought the dog would be bouncing up and down like tigger but nope. But at about 3pm yesterday the unwashed car (you know who you are) rolled into the garage and BW bounced out.

The first thing I noticed was a: she got a haircut, and b: she smelled like laundry softener. I don’t know what they wash their clothes with in paraguay but there’s no lack of fabric softener. Ever walk into a soap store and think to yourself: how do they work in here? It smells so strong! – well, welcome to our house. I feel like I’m living in some strange world made up of soap and candy floss.

After getting the car unloaded (did I mention it came back unwashed?), and BW unpacked and sorted out, we buzzed over to our favorite vietnamese restaurant where the waitress knows us by sight and celebrated with eggplant and soup.

We came back, fed the dog and then at 6pm – BW went to bed.

Not only did BW bring me back a T-shirt, but she also brought a cold all the way from Paraguay with her too. So after a 14 hour flight, six hours of sleep  and a six hour drive she deserves a little 14 hour nap and I didn’t see her to the next morning.

Meanwhile, back in the rest of the house due to all the excitement and unpacking I don’t think the dog got let out. She wasn’t out for a few hours before BW showed up, and then when BW went to bed the dog followed.  This means the dog had not peed in sometime.

Usually, the dog is pretty good at letting us know OMG, LET ME OUT KNOW!, but I  guess with all the excitement and the change in the routine all parties in the household  dropped the ball and the dog dropped the contents  of its bladder on the kitchen floor. I found this out by walking across an unusually wet kitchen floor in sock feet. It’s a lovely sensation.

To summarize:

  • BW is home, but with  a cold and smelling  like a soap factory.
  • The dog peed on the floor.
  • The car didn’t get washed.
  • And I couldn’t be happier.

Welcome Home, BW. We missed you. (ps, we’re almost out of pizzas and dog food)

 

 

 

 

Flower Power

This is just a shorty: BW needed proof that I kept the front flowers alive while she’s been away. I think I’ve done a pretty good job dontchathink? 🙂

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A is for Agraphobia

It’s no secret that I’m an indoor kid.

I mean..helllo….there’s a WHOLE internet out there waiting to explored at your fingertips. And due to my nature I love to read and there’s loads of stuff online to read online and so… why go out? I’ve got a dog at my feet, a cup of tea and there’s a cool breeze from the window and the neighbourhood owl is telling me it’s almost time for bed. I’m set – nothing is needed outside the home.

But the problem with this reputation is when you do slip outside of the expected you get in trouble.

I present to you:

Ways a Husband Can Get In Trouble: Number 2454

Here’s the scene: It’s Sat am. I’ve been online for a few hours in the AM but eventually hunger and dog wanting a walk dictated that I get off my butt and do something about both of those problems.

So I got up and walked away from the computer and dealt with the dog and my stomach. And, I figured while I was standing I may as well run the broom around the floor and unload the dishwasher, and I think I even cut the lawn too – doesn’t matter

What does matter is that BW likes to keep tabs on me at all times. So she saw that I wasn’t online on facebook or skype or a gagillion other ways we’ve been communicating online these past few weeks and so BW started to get worried. .

So she called. From Paraguay

BW: Where were you?
ME: what do you mean?
BW: You weren’t online
ME: Yeah, like for an HOUR.

A guy can’t win. He gets teased constantly by friends and wife (and to both friend and wife reading this: wife needs pantry – you two deal with each other now. I’m out) about being an indoor kid and secretly hanging upside down by his anti-gravity boots bu when I do go out I get panicky phone calls from BW. Again, I need to empasize this: I was away from the computer for about an hour, two tops.

Now I suppose I am to blame for this. If I tended to be more extroverted it would be assumed I would be out all the time, but I doubt that would work out too well either becauase then the complaint would be that I’m never home..

I guess the lesson learned here is being married is just like being 10 years old: You have to let somebody know where you’re going, and make sure you’re home when the streetlights come on.

Of Mice and Men

This is a story about shoelaces

You see, here at chez 440 we have a rule – no shoes in the house.

An due to the fact we live in a drive-able only suburban area –  except for a spin around the  block with my four legged friend – we drive the car and use the door between the garage and the house way more than the front door which is just for the odd guest and the UPS guy.

And due to this fact, and we find it’s just a good practice – we kick off our shoes in the garage.

Now for years this little system works great for a few reasons:

You’re not tripping over shoes at the door, the dog can’t eat your shoes. Yes, it’s been done. (BAD DOG), and I don’t have to vacuum as often due to the fact that there’s less dirt tracked in my us humans anyway.

So.

I go out to the garage to toss on my shoes and the shoelaces are gone. Well, they’re there but there’s hardly an inch to grab on to to tie with and the plastic ends are gone and what’s left of the ends are frayed to bits.

I didn’t think much of it and just grabbed another pair to put on.

The next day I go out and go to put on my footwear and this is another pair of shoes that has it’s ends gone. gone. gone.

What the heck?

Then it dawned on me: Mice! (at least  I think so)

The little buggers have been chewing on my shoelaces. Often we’ll leave the garage open until it’s time to go to bed and so my guess is  they have found a love for my shoelaces recently and all they leave me is the nubs. Little buggers.

So,  I go to the dollar store and find  eight pairs of shoelaces for just a buck! Woo Hoo! That’s 12.5 cents a pair – a pretty good deal.

I get home, yank  a pair out and start lacing.  I only get  halfway. These laces are short! real short! Aw man I thought:  you mean to tell me I bought the wrong size? Also: there’s sizes????!!

But then further inspection realized that I bought the variety pack of shoelaces with various sizes from 27 inches to 54 inches in length. We now have extra shoelaces for any foot size. If you need  shoelaces call me first. I can help.

Lessons learned?

Shoelaces are tasty to mice.
Shoelaces come in sizes.
I can write an entire blog post about shoelaces.

PS. 7 more sleeps!