Loktar
Pinata Whacker
I do eat alot of seafood. Way too much seafood.Fat people need to eat more seafood, instead of eating more food than they see...
"You gonna get another job?"...
- Thread starter Volpone
- Start date
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Kind of ahead of schedule for the day, but it is a rare occasion where The Dog's afternoon patrol makes me need to sit down for a bit and recharge before I get on with my day. When I try to bitch about it, I realize it is all petty nothingness but it's like a feedback loop where, once I start getting pissed off, it just builds on itself.
First off, it took awhile to get out the door. As I was wrapping up the afternoon siesta, The Dog, who'd been peacefully snoozing on the rug next to the bed decided to hop up on the bed and plop her full 64# weight right onto her elbow, which was on my crotch and lay there, wanting to be petted. When we got to the back door and I realized it was raining out, I grabbed my rubber boots to wear, in case she wanted to walk through the grass. One of them leaks, but at least they don't get soaked like leather and have to dry out for days and days. Of course when I sat down to put my boots on, she sat down in front of me and demanded to be petted some more. Eventually she was ready to go.
Stepped outside and realized that, while the temperature was supposed to be 71, the cold drizzle and breeze made me pop back for a light jacket. This was handy because she did decide she wanted to walk in the grass. The waist high grass that was soaked with water. So my pants were basically soaked to the waist, but I was able to put my phone in my jacket pocket.
She started on one of her typical walk routes. Then she doubled back to the start point before we got far and took a different route that involves crossing a busy street (after more trudging along a steep slick creek bank in waist high weeds). Immediately upon crossing the street she wanted to cross back and I'm like "NO. FUCK IT. FUCK YOU. WE'RE STAYING OVER HERE."
Oh, part of the rage is that dogs do completely innocent things that are, nonetheless embarrassing/suspicious for us. You know what smells interesting to a dog? Mailbox posts. Car tires. So every house we come to, we have to stop and stand around at the end of the driveway, next to the mailbox for 20-30 seconds or so. After a few more false starts it was time to duck into an apartment complex grounds for just long enough to annoy me before heading off to a field, followed by an abandoned 19th century farm complex where she's had success hunting groundhogs. It continues to rain the entire time and I continue to have to follow her into thickets in pursuit of groundhog scent. Finally we're on the way home and she leads me under every tree that makes me have to duck and push aside wet branches before trying to jaywalk back across the busy street in the rain WHEN WE'RE HALF A BLOCK FROM A FUCKING STOPLIGHT CROSSWALK.
Finally, on the home stretch, she wanted to go get a Chik-Fil-A bag that was out in traffic so I had to stand there like an idiot until there was a break in traffic where I could snatch it back to the (relative) safety of the shoulder. It was empty. So I put it on the ground in front of her so she could see it was empty and she just sat there looking up at me while I go "LOOK, I CAN'T SHIT FRIED CHICKEN. I'D LOVE TO. IF I COULD SHIT YOU A FRIED CHICKEN, I WOULD, BUT I CAN'T, SO CAN WE PLEASE GO?!"
Of course then she didn't want to go In when we got home--until I did. Then I had to stop and let her in and she immediately headed of somewhere to shake off before I could get her towel. Then, when I was able to actually towel her off she was eating and acted bothered that I was messing with her while she was trying to eat. Still, I got her a little dried. Then off to finish taking off boots etc--until she came over and NOW wanted to be dried off.
I've started tracking my "rage meter" when I'm walking her: "Rage meter is at 2. Rage meter is at 3 and climbing". Almost inevitably I get to a point where I go "the rage meter is pegged."
[EDIT:] Oh, and I'll add that, while I'm no biologist or anthropologist or whatever, I suspect there is wiring in our brain from caveman days to take shelter and hunker down during bad weather. Like how you can put birds to sleep by turning the light off or how people get seasonal affective disorder during winter.
First off, it took awhile to get out the door. As I was wrapping up the afternoon siesta, The Dog, who'd been peacefully snoozing on the rug next to the bed decided to hop up on the bed and plop her full 64# weight right onto her elbow, which was on my crotch and lay there, wanting to be petted. When we got to the back door and I realized it was raining out, I grabbed my rubber boots to wear, in case she wanted to walk through the grass. One of them leaks, but at least they don't get soaked like leather and have to dry out for days and days. Of course when I sat down to put my boots on, she sat down in front of me and demanded to be petted some more. Eventually she was ready to go.
Stepped outside and realized that, while the temperature was supposed to be 71, the cold drizzle and breeze made me pop back for a light jacket. This was handy because she did decide she wanted to walk in the grass. The waist high grass that was soaked with water. So my pants were basically soaked to the waist, but I was able to put my phone in my jacket pocket.
She started on one of her typical walk routes. Then she doubled back to the start point before we got far and took a different route that involves crossing a busy street (after more trudging along a steep slick creek bank in waist high weeds). Immediately upon crossing the street she wanted to cross back and I'm like "NO. FUCK IT. FUCK YOU. WE'RE STAYING OVER HERE."
Oh, part of the rage is that dogs do completely innocent things that are, nonetheless embarrassing/suspicious for us. You know what smells interesting to a dog? Mailbox posts. Car tires. So every house we come to, we have to stop and stand around at the end of the driveway, next to the mailbox for 20-30 seconds or so. After a few more false starts it was time to duck into an apartment complex grounds for just long enough to annoy me before heading off to a field, followed by an abandoned 19th century farm complex where she's had success hunting groundhogs. It continues to rain the entire time and I continue to have to follow her into thickets in pursuit of groundhog scent. Finally we're on the way home and she leads me under every tree that makes me have to duck and push aside wet branches before trying to jaywalk back across the busy street in the rain WHEN WE'RE HALF A BLOCK FROM A FUCKING STOPLIGHT CROSSWALK.
Finally, on the home stretch, she wanted to go get a Chik-Fil-A bag that was out in traffic so I had to stand there like an idiot until there was a break in traffic where I could snatch it back to the (relative) safety of the shoulder. It was empty. So I put it on the ground in front of her so she could see it was empty and she just sat there looking up at me while I go "LOOK, I CAN'T SHIT FRIED CHICKEN. I'D LOVE TO. IF I COULD SHIT YOU A FRIED CHICKEN, I WOULD, BUT I CAN'T, SO CAN WE PLEASE GO?!"
Of course then she didn't want to go In when we got home--until I did. Then I had to stop and let her in and she immediately headed of somewhere to shake off before I could get her towel. Then, when I was able to actually towel her off she was eating and acted bothered that I was messing with her while she was trying to eat. Still, I got her a little dried. Then off to finish taking off boots etc--until she came over and NOW wanted to be dried off.
I've started tracking my "rage meter" when I'm walking her: "Rage meter is at 2. Rage meter is at 3 and climbing". Almost inevitably I get to a point where I go "the rage meter is pegged."
[EDIT:] Oh, and I'll add that, while I'm no biologist or anthropologist or whatever, I suspect there is wiring in our brain from caveman days to take shelter and hunker down during bad weather. Like how you can put birds to sleep by turning the light off or how people get seasonal affective disorder during winter.
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Volpone
Zombie Hunter
I got a ton of heavy stuff to post, from the magic of old school Catholicism to the burden of being forced to kill other living things to mundane chores in my shed to finally knowing what the fox says, but for now I'll just touch on The Dog's groundhog season: We're at the point in the year where the groundhog pups are big enough to go out and forage for food but small enough that they can be killed pretty quickly, carried home fairly easily, and eaten a lot easier than the big fat mean adult whistle pigs. So The Dog's been murdering a lot of groundhogs. And eating a lot. But apparently a few days of tenderazation are good so last night she brought her kill of the day up on the deck for safekeeping. (Horrible bastard that I am, I won't allow her to bring murdered groundhogs into the house and I even took it out of the shed she'd brought it into when I'd finished working and wanted to close the garage door.) This morning it was gone. I suspect the fox that I've hinted at maybe got it.
At any rate, she cut her morning patrol pretty short--only to get home in time to catch the neighbor's barn groundhog fucking off in my yard. She dispatched him pretty quickly and I won't lie, I was proud. And frustrated. Because the neighbor has a kind of "Bambi" mindset of how the cute pretty forest creatures all live together in harmony when really the groundhog has been tearing the shit out of her barn and its main purpose is to convert grass into protein for foxes and dogs. So yeah, right now there's a big dead groundhog on my back deck and The Dog is twitchy about any odd sound because she doesn't want her trophy snatched in the dead of night. (Truthfully, I think this one is too large for the fox to abscond with.)
At any rate, she cut her morning patrol pretty short--only to get home in time to catch the neighbor's barn groundhog fucking off in my yard. She dispatched him pretty quickly and I won't lie, I was proud. And frustrated. Because the neighbor has a kind of "Bambi" mindset of how the cute pretty forest creatures all live together in harmony when really the groundhog has been tearing the shit out of her barn and its main purpose is to convert grass into protein for foxes and dogs. So yeah, right now there's a big dead groundhog on my back deck and The Dog is twitchy about any odd sound because she doesn't want her trophy snatched in the dead of night. (Truthfully, I think this one is too large for the fox to abscond with.)
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
I'm still meaning to make heavy posts about heavy topics, but again, it will have to wait.
I used to dress nice when the mood suited me, but no more. Now I just dress like a bum all the time; wear the same clothes day after day until they get too filthy/smelly to wear; dress for practicality. It doesn't help that a lot of my clothes have worn out and I haven't gotten around to replacing them. So my uniform of late is my nicest pair of bluejeans (the ones that don't have holes or permanent stains on them) and a blue polo shirt that I think I've had since the 1990s. It started raining in the afternoon, so instead of the black or tan tactical boots, I wore the old leaky knee high red "Wellies" that I'd gotten for a Captain America costume that hasn't happened yet because they stopped selling those red metal saucer sleds the year after I decided to use one for the shield. I literally had one on my arm at a sporting goods store one night, waiting to start work at the supermarket next door, but money was tight and I didn't really need it yet. Little did I know that was the last time I'd see one in a store. Anyway, since I'd been wearing some Wal*Mart shorts and my favorite Captain America T-shirt, which is now so worn that it is essentially see-through mesh, for work in the outbuildings in the morning (and they haven't been washed in weeks), jeans and a polo felt pretty dapper so I opted to not tuck the jeans in the boots so I wouldn't look *completely* like a dweeb. Umbrella for the light rain that was coming down. Of course The Dog went straight for the creek banks with the waist high grass--the soaking wet waist-high grass--oh well. We crossed the creek at one of the fords and she headed straight up the hill to jump a juvenile groundhog. Usually the juveniles die pretty quickly, but this one put up a pretty spirited and extended resistance, even getting in at least one good attack that evoked a loud "YELP!" from The Dog. I considered intervening, but it looked like he'd been badly wounded in the initial attack and letting her finish him was probably more humane. She trotted home with him and since this had cut the walk short, I decided to turn to on the shed I'd been working on.
I'm finally "done" with the big tin shed. I mean, I've still got to put in a stovepipe for the woodburning stove, but that's not a huge priority right now. So I moved on to the carriage house. There's some type of terrible, shitty siding that people used around the mid 20th century. It's a little like particle board, so if water gets into it (as water tends to do on building exteriors) it deteriorates. The carriage house is built out of that. So I planned to use my remaining linseed oil on the inside, unpainted side of the siding in hopes of slowing the deterioration. I also wanted to seal the concrete. About a year and a half ago, I shoveled out 4-5" of the gravel floor and had the appropriate amount of concrete poured for it. There had been a gravel floored structure with a concrete foundation there before the current building that had been about 2' shorter than the current building--really too short to put even the smallest car in, which is why I suspect the building got replaced, so I just shoveled out enough gravel and filled the old foundation with concrete. Not my MOST successful project, but not bad. Of course I had to pull everything out for this. And then scramble to get everything under cover when it started pouring down shortly after lunch.
Anyway, like I said, the groundhog kill ended the walk a half hour early so I decided to work on the carriage house. The first rental I bought had a slab of marble next to the garage. One edge wasn't finished so I really didn't have a use for it. And I managed to break it into 3 pieces, taking it out of the van when I got it to my place. So I decided to use it (as well as some surplus bricks) to pave the 2' band at the front of the building that wasn't inside the old foundation. Of course this involved digging out deep enough that the slab would lay flush with the concrete (I should've had sand for leveling, but that's another story). Being wet from the thighs down and digging in a mixture of gravel and sandy dirt left me completely filthy. Meanwhile, The Dog was content to lay in the tin shed with her newest trophy and all the stuff I'd dragged in out of the rain earlier. Got the marble slab in place in a way that I don't completely hate and may actually work but realized I didn't have enough bricks handy to do the rest of the front edge--and I was too tired and out of time anyway, so I did my OCD thing and tidied up all the stuff I'd just chucked in the other shed. For some reason trash didn't get picked up this morning. Ordinarily I'd let The Dog celebrate a trophy for more than a day, but since she doesn't generally eat a full-sized groundhog and she'd just got another pup--and I don't want to let him lie in state for an entire week in the June sun and heat, I chucked the big Barn Groundhog into the trash can. Of course she came out of the shed and watched me the entire time I was doing it. Since the fox swiped her last pup before she could eat it, she decided to not wait for time and decomposition to tenderize this one and got him open just under the armpit. Once she started getting the guts out I came over to pull them out for her so she doesn't eat the guts full of poop. In the past I'd put on rubber gloves or at least plastic bags over my hands but at this point I've just given up. Got it done and then went in to wash the blood and any trace amounts of groundhog poop off my hands and made this post while watching the news and making dinner.
On an unrelated note, I think the era of wind-up alarm clocks may be done. Used to have your choice of a range of nice American-made Westclox alarm clocks in any hardware or similar store at the start of the century, but they started getting harder and harder to find. At this point you have to order one online, they're all made in China, and each one breaks in about half the time of the last one you got.
I used to dress nice when the mood suited me, but no more. Now I just dress like a bum all the time; wear the same clothes day after day until they get too filthy/smelly to wear; dress for practicality. It doesn't help that a lot of my clothes have worn out and I haven't gotten around to replacing them. So my uniform of late is my nicest pair of bluejeans (the ones that don't have holes or permanent stains on them) and a blue polo shirt that I think I've had since the 1990s. It started raining in the afternoon, so instead of the black or tan tactical boots, I wore the old leaky knee high red "Wellies" that I'd gotten for a Captain America costume that hasn't happened yet because they stopped selling those red metal saucer sleds the year after I decided to use one for the shield. I literally had one on my arm at a sporting goods store one night, waiting to start work at the supermarket next door, but money was tight and I didn't really need it yet. Little did I know that was the last time I'd see one in a store. Anyway, since I'd been wearing some Wal*Mart shorts and my favorite Captain America T-shirt, which is now so worn that it is essentially see-through mesh, for work in the outbuildings in the morning (and they haven't been washed in weeks), jeans and a polo felt pretty dapper so I opted to not tuck the jeans in the boots so I wouldn't look *completely* like a dweeb. Umbrella for the light rain that was coming down. Of course The Dog went straight for the creek banks with the waist high grass--the soaking wet waist-high grass--oh well. We crossed the creek at one of the fords and she headed straight up the hill to jump a juvenile groundhog. Usually the juveniles die pretty quickly, but this one put up a pretty spirited and extended resistance, even getting in at least one good attack that evoked a loud "YELP!" from The Dog. I considered intervening, but it looked like he'd been badly wounded in the initial attack and letting her finish him was probably more humane. She trotted home with him and since this had cut the walk short, I decided to turn to on the shed I'd been working on.
I'm finally "done" with the big tin shed. I mean, I've still got to put in a stovepipe for the woodburning stove, but that's not a huge priority right now. So I moved on to the carriage house. There's some type of terrible, shitty siding that people used around the mid 20th century. It's a little like particle board, so if water gets into it (as water tends to do on building exteriors) it deteriorates. The carriage house is built out of that. So I planned to use my remaining linseed oil on the inside, unpainted side of the siding in hopes of slowing the deterioration. I also wanted to seal the concrete. About a year and a half ago, I shoveled out 4-5" of the gravel floor and had the appropriate amount of concrete poured for it. There had been a gravel floored structure with a concrete foundation there before the current building that had been about 2' shorter than the current building--really too short to put even the smallest car in, which is why I suspect the building got replaced, so I just shoveled out enough gravel and filled the old foundation with concrete. Not my MOST successful project, but not bad. Of course I had to pull everything out for this. And then scramble to get everything under cover when it started pouring down shortly after lunch.
Anyway, like I said, the groundhog kill ended the walk a half hour early so I decided to work on the carriage house. The first rental I bought had a slab of marble next to the garage. One edge wasn't finished so I really didn't have a use for it. And I managed to break it into 3 pieces, taking it out of the van when I got it to my place. So I decided to use it (as well as some surplus bricks) to pave the 2' band at the front of the building that wasn't inside the old foundation. Of course this involved digging out deep enough that the slab would lay flush with the concrete (I should've had sand for leveling, but that's another story). Being wet from the thighs down and digging in a mixture of gravel and sandy dirt left me completely filthy. Meanwhile, The Dog was content to lay in the tin shed with her newest trophy and all the stuff I'd dragged in out of the rain earlier. Got the marble slab in place in a way that I don't completely hate and may actually work but realized I didn't have enough bricks handy to do the rest of the front edge--and I was too tired and out of time anyway, so I did my OCD thing and tidied up all the stuff I'd just chucked in the other shed. For some reason trash didn't get picked up this morning. Ordinarily I'd let The Dog celebrate a trophy for more than a day, but since she doesn't generally eat a full-sized groundhog and she'd just got another pup--and I don't want to let him lie in state for an entire week in the June sun and heat, I chucked the big Barn Groundhog into the trash can. Of course she came out of the shed and watched me the entire time I was doing it. Since the fox swiped her last pup before she could eat it, she decided to not wait for time and decomposition to tenderize this one and got him open just under the armpit. Once she started getting the guts out I came over to pull them out for her so she doesn't eat the guts full of poop. In the past I'd put on rubber gloves or at least plastic bags over my hands but at this point I've just given up. Got it done and then went in to wash the blood and any trace amounts of groundhog poop off my hands and made this post while watching the news and making dinner.
On an unrelated note, I think the era of wind-up alarm clocks may be done. Used to have your choice of a range of nice American-made Westclox alarm clocks in any hardware or similar store at the start of the century, but they started getting harder and harder to find. At this point you have to order one online, they're all made in China, and each one breaks in about half the time of the last one you got.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
OK. In retrospect, this isn't as complex a story as I make it out to be (or IS it!?!?): I know what the Fox says.
As my username and avatar indicate, the fox is my fetish/spirit creature. Rommel and Odysseus were "The Fox." So was Zorro. The Disney cartoon Robin Hood of my childhood. My Dad had a longbow that I inherited, along with some hunting arrows that had a black and orange mark on the shaft that I adopted for my own arrows. The school colors for my undergrad college were orange and black. Foxes aren't apex predators. They are predators, but they need to live by their wits. So I've selected a fox as my totem. A friend sent me a goofy ceramic collie as a birthday present. I repainted it as a fox. Since I decided my place needed a name like pretentious douches named houses back in the Olde Dayes and there is a ridge along the center of my property, I named my house Fox Ridge. (Oh, when I was in school for the Marines, I rented an apartment from Fox Run Properties.
So anyway, years back, when I told my neighbor some part of all this, she said a family of foxes had lived in the property next to her.
Well this year they're back. Or at least 1 is. And it's driving The Dog bananas. What does the fox say? It sounds a lot like a cat that's been locked out and wants back in. Only louder and much more persistent: "MEOW! MEOW! MEOW! MEOW!...." Over and over and over for minutes at a stretch. I also suspect the bastard has stolen at least one dead groundhog from my dog.
Well it's been brutally humid and we've had a break so I've got the windows open, so when this fox goes into its litany, it drives The Dog into a rage and I have to let her out to protect the property.
(When I first heard this, it took awhile to realize it wasn't The Cat. The Cat was Out, so I'd hear meowing outside the window and go to check the door and of course The Cat would come in. But this was because the fox was meowing and The Cat didn't want to get eaten by a fox. Correlation does not equal causation.)
As my username and avatar indicate, the fox is my fetish/spirit creature. Rommel and Odysseus were "The Fox." So was Zorro. The Disney cartoon Robin Hood of my childhood. My Dad had a longbow that I inherited, along with some hunting arrows that had a black and orange mark on the shaft that I adopted for my own arrows. The school colors for my undergrad college were orange and black. Foxes aren't apex predators. They are predators, but they need to live by their wits. So I've selected a fox as my totem. A friend sent me a goofy ceramic collie as a birthday present. I repainted it as a fox. Since I decided my place needed a name like pretentious douches named houses back in the Olde Dayes and there is a ridge along the center of my property, I named my house Fox Ridge. (Oh, when I was in school for the Marines, I rented an apartment from Fox Run Properties.
So anyway, years back, when I told my neighbor some part of all this, she said a family of foxes had lived in the property next to her.
Well this year they're back. Or at least 1 is. And it's driving The Dog bananas. What does the fox say? It sounds a lot like a cat that's been locked out and wants back in. Only louder and much more persistent: "MEOW! MEOW! MEOW! MEOW!...." Over and over and over for minutes at a stretch. I also suspect the bastard has stolen at least one dead groundhog from my dog.
Well it's been brutally humid and we've had a break so I've got the windows open, so when this fox goes into its litany, it drives The Dog into a rage and I have to let her out to protect the property.
(When I first heard this, it took awhile to realize it wasn't The Cat. The Cat was Out, so I'd hear meowing outside the window and go to check the door and of course The Cat would come in. But this was because the fox was meowing and The Cat didn't want to get eaten by a fox. Correlation does not equal causation.)
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Life's Little Disappointments/Oh, the Ways You'll Fail update: I am very nearly done with my garage project(s). Oh, there's plenty of stuff that could be done still, but I'm near a decent stopping point. A little more linseed oil to treat the wood and I can move on to my next thing (which is another story), but, as I mentioned, the other thing was, the foundation for the carriage house is 17"-24" shorter than the structure (at the door end), so when I poured concrete a couple years back, that part was still dirt/gravel. The plan was to pave it with existing bricks. Turns out I had a lot less bricks than I thought. But I *did* have a 7' long stone countertop that got busted into 3 pieces. Marble? Granite? Does it matter? It was laying next to the garage of a house I bought. Maybe it was valuable to someone, but to me it was kind of a liability. Big. Heavy. Not really the right dimensions for anything I had. And it had one "live" (long) edge instead of being machined on all 4 sides. For over a year I just hid it behind the garage. When I finally brought it to my house I managed to break it into 3 pieces while unloading it. The smart thing would've been to use it on the sides, where the car wouldn't drive over it. But it was just a *bit* too wide. So I had to stick it in the middle of the opening, right where the car would drive over it.
Also, the smart thing would've been to buy a bag or two of sand to use as a leveling agent, so the stone was evenly supported beneath. But I was in a hurry. And the dirt was pretty sandy. And didn't have *that much* gravel in it. Grunted and sweated and got it in so it was rock solid and didn't move. Pretty pleased. Of course the first time I drove a car over it, it splintered into 6 more pieces. Given that its own weight caused it to break when unloading it, I probably should've realized the weight of a car driving over it would DEFINITELY break it--even distributed by the tires--and that the perceived stability was just because the stone was spanning rises and voids. Oh well. I'm not out anything.
Meanwhile, The Dog bagged a juvenile groundhog today. She tried to stash it in the tin shed so the fox wouldn't steal it tonight. But since I didn't want a dead groundhog rotting up my just cleaned floor, I put it outside next to the door when I closed up for the night. Of course me going out made her suspicious, so she wanted to go out, promptly grabbed it and brought it up on the back deck, where she guarded it for an hour or two before coming in for the night. Old dog would've buried it somewhere until it was tender enough to eat. This girl...sometimes she'll try to bury one, but then she second guesses herself and drags it out. She layed on it like a pillow for most of the time after she killed it. I mostly hope the fox doesn't steal it tonight. It would make my life simpler, but it would make her sad.
PS: Some fuckheads with a truck are working on something on the street outside my house at a quarter to 11. I'm inclined to arm myself and accost them, but that would probably rile up The Dog. Never mind. Sounds like maybe they got done whatever they were doing and drove off. Nope. Never mind. Now I'm hearing backup alarms. I have power and water. What could they be fucking working on at 11pm on a Friday night?
Also, the smart thing would've been to buy a bag or two of sand to use as a leveling agent, so the stone was evenly supported beneath. But I was in a hurry. And the dirt was pretty sandy. And didn't have *that much* gravel in it. Grunted and sweated and got it in so it was rock solid and didn't move. Pretty pleased. Of course the first time I drove a car over it, it splintered into 6 more pieces. Given that its own weight caused it to break when unloading it, I probably should've realized the weight of a car driving over it would DEFINITELY break it--even distributed by the tires--and that the perceived stability was just because the stone was spanning rises and voids. Oh well. I'm not out anything.
Meanwhile, The Dog bagged a juvenile groundhog today. She tried to stash it in the tin shed so the fox wouldn't steal it tonight. But since I didn't want a dead groundhog rotting up my just cleaned floor, I put it outside next to the door when I closed up for the night. Of course me going out made her suspicious, so she wanted to go out, promptly grabbed it and brought it up on the back deck, where she guarded it for an hour or two before coming in for the night. Old dog would've buried it somewhere until it was tender enough to eat. This girl...sometimes she'll try to bury one, but then she second guesses herself and drags it out. She layed on it like a pillow for most of the time after she killed it. I mostly hope the fox doesn't steal it tonight. It would make my life simpler, but it would make her sad.
PS: Some fuckheads with a truck are working on something on the street outside my house at a quarter to 11. I'm inclined to arm myself and accost them, but that would probably rile up The Dog. Never mind. Sounds like maybe they got done whatever they were doing and drove off. Nope. Never mind. Now I'm hearing backup alarms. I have power and water. What could they be fucking working on at 11pm on a Friday night?
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
So yeah. There are apparently no actual outages in the entire city. But some kind of work burned out some kind of wire on the pole across the street from me, so they've got people out at 11:30 on Friday night to fix it Just In Case. So every time they move a car or yell at each other or the walkie talkie comes on, The Dog goes nuts with "I KILL YOU!" barking and wants to go out. Or in. Depending on where she is.
If you've ever wondered if it was possible to be simultaneously enraged and exhausted, it totally is.
PS: The Cat may or may not be Out. He was In, but the windows were open and with all the insane "I KILL YOU!" barking, he may have decided Out was more calm and relaxing.
If you've ever wondered if it was possible to be simultaneously enraged and exhausted, it totally is.
PS: The Cat may or may not be Out. He was In, but the windows were open and with all the insane "I KILL YOU!" barking, he may have decided Out was more calm and relaxing.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Looking for dinnertime television viewing. The classic "Dr. Who" rotation is up to "The Leisure Hive," the first serial that really has JNT's fingerprints all over it; arguably the beginning of the end of the classic series. (I tend to place it way back when K-9 makes his appearance, but by Tom Baker's last season it really becomes pronounced.) So over to Story Television. It's some fucking paranormal Alaska reality show where the main host has a black straw cowboy hat he wears AT ALL TIMES (I mean, he's got it on under a hardhat in the brief time I watched). So. Channel surfing. No "Star Trek." No "X-Files." There's a fairly terrible made-for-TV Tom Selleck Western on one of the Western channels and then there's "Columbo." Not great but adequate background noise and then... Movies! has "The Longest Day." I've never seen it and I've been meaning to, but the air time is goddamn near 4 hours. "Well, there goes my evening."
It's a little clunky at the start, being shot in black & white, but you get used to it. I suspect it was so they could use archival WWII footage. You can see a difference in the footage, but not quite as jarring as if the main action was in color and then they'd cut to black and white shots of ships or bombers. I missed the first 16 minutes and then a bit before the first parachute drops while I was folding laundry but I don't feel like I missed much. Push comes to shove, it looks like they're showing it again Tuesday so I can always catch the beginning again.
It's a little clunky at the start, being shot in black & white, but you get used to it. I suspect it was so they could use archival WWII footage. You can see a difference in the footage, but not quite as jarring as if the main action was in color and then they'd cut to black and white shots of ships or bombers. I missed the first 16 minutes and then a bit before the first parachute drops while I was folding laundry but I don't feel like I missed much. Push comes to shove, it looks like they're showing it again Tuesday so I can always catch the beginning again.
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Zombie Hunter
Oh, and lets see if I can squeak this in in the remaining 5 minutes (nope. Fail.) I've been treating exposed wood in a shed with linseed oil. Almost done, but also almost exhausted. Then I've got this, say, 2x7' marble slab that got broke in 3 places trying to unload it that I was using along with pavers for the front part of the shed floor--has to go where the car drives over it because it's too wide to fit anywhere else. The fact that it broke in 3 places from its own weight should've tipped me off that driving a car over it would break it unless I had the ground under it perfectly level and supporting. Tried fixing that today. Didn't completely fail. But lugging a 60# bag of cement from the store, leveling it in the spot I'd pulled the marble pieces from, adding water, and then wrestling the pieces back into place--I did't particularly feel it at the time, but this whole afternoon I've been absolutely wiped out. Getting old sucks.
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Zombie Hunter
And you think your life is hard. My Dog likes to be inside. But she bagged a juvenile groundhog today and lugged it about a mile and a half back to the house but I won't let her bring it inside(!) and a fox will probably come steal it in the night, so she's laying out on the deck, guarding it. I want to go to bed pretty soon so I guess I'll take one more try to get her in. On the good side, she knows to bark if she wants to be let in, so if push comes to shove, I can go to bed with her outside. I should probably make sure she's up to date on her heartworm medication though.
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Zombie Hunter
I got her in. At 3:45 she jumped up, "I KILL YOU!" barking, and ran to the back door, where she lunged and paced until I could let her out. Her trophy was still on the deck so she made a quick reconnoiter of the yard before laying down to guard it. She wouldn't come in so I took a 15 minute nap. Then she came in and her trophy was still there this morning.
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Zombie Hunter
I gotta get back into some strength conditioning. I tell myself that I lead an active lifestyle so I don't have time to exercise and I don't need to because I do enough physical work. But it's time to clean the house and I feel too exhausted to and I shouldn't. Basic weekly housecleaning isn't that tiring. I need to get the blood pumping and the muscles worked beyond what they're getting now. I'd feel better and not only would the exercise burn calories, the increased muscle mass would burn calories even when resting. So yeah, maybe tomorrow. Or the day after...
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Zombie Hunter
I thought I had some really heavy stuff I wanted to talk about, but I may just have been drunk. I already covered the fox stuff and it wasn't as deep as I thought it was. I can't even remember the second thing (might have to reread the post and see if it has any clues) and as I think about it, the last one is kind of mundane too.
Death. More specifically, killing. Just had Memorial Day and the 80th Anniversary of D-Day, so Story Television was loaded with WWII documentaries. In one of them, they were interviewing some old veteran and he said something along the lines of "it isn't particularly pleasant to kill another person, but it had to be done." And that just kind of sums up being an adult male. I'm fortunate to have never had to kill another person, but when you own a house you wind up having to kill all manner of animals. Hornets, yellowjackets, mice, ants, moles, squirrels. If I ever plant a garden I'm going to have to kill a shit ton of rabbits because they're everywhere. And it's just something that has to be done. You try to coexist with the squirrels, but then they get up into the eaves of your house and start chewing holes in them and tearing them apart. Will they create leaks or get to the wiring? Probably, if you don't do something. So you seal up all the holes; maybe jam some nasty bits of wire up in there too. Will they starve to death? Fine. Serves 'em right, fuckers, for making me have to do something.
On a semirelated note, they mowed the banks of the creek today, so the stupid little juvenile groundhogs have no concealment and The Dog caught a pair of them in the open. One got away. At the cost of the other. So now she's on the deck with her fresh trophy while yesterday's trophy is down in the grass nearby. We'll see if the fox manages to steal one of them tonight.
Death. More specifically, killing. Just had Memorial Day and the 80th Anniversary of D-Day, so Story Television was loaded with WWII documentaries. In one of them, they were interviewing some old veteran and he said something along the lines of "it isn't particularly pleasant to kill another person, but it had to be done." And that just kind of sums up being an adult male. I'm fortunate to have never had to kill another person, but when you own a house you wind up having to kill all manner of animals. Hornets, yellowjackets, mice, ants, moles, squirrels. If I ever plant a garden I'm going to have to kill a shit ton of rabbits because they're everywhere. And it's just something that has to be done. You try to coexist with the squirrels, but then they get up into the eaves of your house and start chewing holes in them and tearing them apart. Will they create leaks or get to the wiring? Probably, if you don't do something. So you seal up all the holes; maybe jam some nasty bits of wire up in there too. Will they starve to death? Fine. Serves 'em right, fuckers, for making me have to do something.
On a semirelated note, they mowed the banks of the creek today, so the stupid little juvenile groundhogs have no concealment and The Dog caught a pair of them in the open. One got away. At the cost of the other. So now she's on the deck with her fresh trophy while yesterday's trophy is down in the grass nearby. We'll see if the fox manages to steal one of them tonight.
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Zombie Hunter
Why do liberals have to fuck up anything nice?! The west coast. Used to be great. Now it's a shithole. Had to leave. Picked the best place I could find but...In Oregon--even SoCal--I didn't need AC. I mean sure it might get to 100 some day, but the humidity would be, like, 17%. 75 degrees with 80% humidity is way more brutal. We've had a really nice year. Springlike for a good chunk of June. Highs in the mid-70s with humidity below 50%. But that is ending and we're returning to a normal summer weather pattern this week--brutal torture to be out walking The Dog and mandatory AC at the house. But at least, while the weather sucks, the place isn't a shithole and I've been able to build more wealth in 7 years than I was able to squander in 15 years of trying to get ahead in Oregon. The only good thing about wealth building in Oregon is that you can make a bunch by leaving it. Sold my house for about 3X what I'd paid for it 7 years earlier. And it's worth even more today, 7 years later.
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FUCK.
ME.
This has been a real fun day.
Only thing on the agenda is some bookkeeping. Got a second notice awhile back on insurance for one of my rental properties--even though I mailed a payment the day after Memorial Day. I've been watching for that checking account statement to see if the check cleared but somehow I didn't get a statement for that account this month either. Getting to the point I couldn't hold off anymore so I'd have to make some calls. But first the morning dog walk.
Oh, and it's supposed to be hot and miserable starting today and into the foreseeable future. But we got the walk in early enough that it didn't suck. Shirt I'd worn yesterday was a little gamey so I put on a fresh, crisp, clean safari shirt with rolled up sleeves. On the very last block of the walk, going back to the house I managed to snag the shoulder on a bit of wire and tear the shirt. As I was entertaining thoughts of maybe being able to mend it, I noticed a big stain across the front that had come from nowhere and resentfully threw it in the trash. Got inside and changed into the next one in the closet. These shirts were surplus so I got a deal on them, 3 mail order for, like, $5. One turned out to be a women's shirt but for $5 I wouldn't complain. And apart from being cut a bit snug and having the buttons on the wrong side there was nothing wrong with it. Grabbed the next shirt in the closet and, of course it turned out to be the women's shirt.
Had a little time before lunch so I made my phone calls. No, the check I'd sent to the insurance company hadn't cleared. Yes, they could print me up a new statement if I came in. Given that banks close at 4pm, I resolved to do this before lunch.
Then I realized some of the bills in the stack that I'd been sitting on were coming due pretty soon and I didn't want to chance putting them in the mailbox next to the driveway--given the missing check and statement this month--so I should write up all the checks before going to the bank. Now my newest renter bounced a check this month so I won't see that money until the next bookkeeping period (probably next week). It looks like I should be getting this month's rent on time though, so I should finally be good on cash and be able to start being proactive. Of course now I'm seeing all kinds of things I want to do or buy that are limited opportunities but I need to have the discipline to hold off. And on top of that I've got a missing insurance payment out there somewhere and I need to cover it out of current funds. This wound up drawing down my emergency funds more than I wanted but there's nothing for it.
Got all the bills ready to go and realized the post office was right next to the supermarket, so I could pick up some pickles to go with my lunch sammich. Getting into the car I remembered the passenger side mirror bracket was loose and I'd meant to Krazy Glue it but decided that could wait until I got home. After dropping my mail off inside the post office I realized the trim on the driver's side door was coming off and spent 5-10 minutes farting around with trying to get that back the way it belonged. Finally made it to the bank and then home for lunch--almost 2 hours late. BUT!!!
First I had to repair the side mirror. When I went in for glue, The Dog wanted to come Out. And while I was getting the glue, she dragged her most recently murdered groundhog into the garage to lay on the cool concrete floor, so when I was done I had to leave the door open. Got inside to finally have lunch. Took my boots off and changed into flip-flops. Got a text from my neighbor, asking if I could come over and unload a couple bags of feed for her at her horse barn. So I put my boots back on and did that. By now The Dog had dragged the murdered groundhog out of the garage so I went over and closed the garage door and finally got to have lunch.
When I woke up from my nap I hurt all over and it was 90 degrees out and sunny. But after the afternoon nap, The Dog gets her afternoon walk, so after farting around a bit I laced the boots up and headed out. My one consolation is that she tends to be more sensible than the Old Dog so I had hopes that with the heat, she'd cut the walk short. But the afternoon patrol is when she has the most luck with groundhog hunting so instead of cutting it short, we set out at a pace where I didn't get too far behind if I walked as fast as I possibly could. She didn't get any groundhogs, but her route took her away from the creek where she'll have a drink and lay in the water to cool off and there was limited shade on the home route so her solution was to double-time the whole way back. In the end we wound up covering what was reasonably an hour and ten minute walk in under 50 minutes. And now I'm not and tired and dehydrated and I still need to do my bookkeeping. But I also need another nap and dinner is in about an hour and 15 minutes.
Ah well, I guess Life could be worse.
ME.
This has been a real fun day.
Only thing on the agenda is some bookkeeping. Got a second notice awhile back on insurance for one of my rental properties--even though I mailed a payment the day after Memorial Day. I've been watching for that checking account statement to see if the check cleared but somehow I didn't get a statement for that account this month either. Getting to the point I couldn't hold off anymore so I'd have to make some calls. But first the morning dog walk.
Oh, and it's supposed to be hot and miserable starting today and into the foreseeable future. But we got the walk in early enough that it didn't suck. Shirt I'd worn yesterday was a little gamey so I put on a fresh, crisp, clean safari shirt with rolled up sleeves. On the very last block of the walk, going back to the house I managed to snag the shoulder on a bit of wire and tear the shirt. As I was entertaining thoughts of maybe being able to mend it, I noticed a big stain across the front that had come from nowhere and resentfully threw it in the trash. Got inside and changed into the next one in the closet. These shirts were surplus so I got a deal on them, 3 mail order for, like, $5. One turned out to be a women's shirt but for $5 I wouldn't complain. And apart from being cut a bit snug and having the buttons on the wrong side there was nothing wrong with it. Grabbed the next shirt in the closet and, of course it turned out to be the women's shirt.
Had a little time before lunch so I made my phone calls. No, the check I'd sent to the insurance company hadn't cleared. Yes, they could print me up a new statement if I came in. Given that banks close at 4pm, I resolved to do this before lunch.
Then I realized some of the bills in the stack that I'd been sitting on were coming due pretty soon and I didn't want to chance putting them in the mailbox next to the driveway--given the missing check and statement this month--so I should write up all the checks before going to the bank. Now my newest renter bounced a check this month so I won't see that money until the next bookkeeping period (probably next week). It looks like I should be getting this month's rent on time though, so I should finally be good on cash and be able to start being proactive. Of course now I'm seeing all kinds of things I want to do or buy that are limited opportunities but I need to have the discipline to hold off. And on top of that I've got a missing insurance payment out there somewhere and I need to cover it out of current funds. This wound up drawing down my emergency funds more than I wanted but there's nothing for it.
Got all the bills ready to go and realized the post office was right next to the supermarket, so I could pick up some pickles to go with my lunch sammich. Getting into the car I remembered the passenger side mirror bracket was loose and I'd meant to Krazy Glue it but decided that could wait until I got home. After dropping my mail off inside the post office I realized the trim on the driver's side door was coming off and spent 5-10 minutes farting around with trying to get that back the way it belonged. Finally made it to the bank and then home for lunch--almost 2 hours late. BUT!!!
First I had to repair the side mirror. When I went in for glue, The Dog wanted to come Out. And while I was getting the glue, she dragged her most recently murdered groundhog into the garage to lay on the cool concrete floor, so when I was done I had to leave the door open. Got inside to finally have lunch. Took my boots off and changed into flip-flops. Got a text from my neighbor, asking if I could come over and unload a couple bags of feed for her at her horse barn. So I put my boots back on and did that. By now The Dog had dragged the murdered groundhog out of the garage so I went over and closed the garage door and finally got to have lunch.
When I woke up from my nap I hurt all over and it was 90 degrees out and sunny. But after the afternoon nap, The Dog gets her afternoon walk, so after farting around a bit I laced the boots up and headed out. My one consolation is that she tends to be more sensible than the Old Dog so I had hopes that with the heat, she'd cut the walk short. But the afternoon patrol is when she has the most luck with groundhog hunting so instead of cutting it short, we set out at a pace where I didn't get too far behind if I walked as fast as I possibly could. She didn't get any groundhogs, but her route took her away from the creek where she'll have a drink and lay in the water to cool off and there was limited shade on the home route so her solution was to double-time the whole way back. In the end we wound up covering what was reasonably an hour and ten minute walk in under 50 minutes. And now I'm not and tired and dehydrated and I still need to do my bookkeeping. But I also need another nap and dinner is in about an hour and 15 minutes.
Ah well, I guess Life could be worse.
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Zombie Hunter
Ugh. I got soft without realizing it. Figured with my activity level I didn't need actual exercise. But I'm stuck at least 10# overweight and I don't want to modify my diet so I forced myself to exercise this morning.
Nothing fancy, the Marine "Daily 5"--five 5 count calisthenics (think toe-touchers, burpees, side bends, etc)--followed by "pyramid" pushups and crunches--3, 6, 9, 12, 15; and 5, 10, 15, 20, 25 rep sets of each, respectively. Still got the last set of pushups to go and I needed a break. Winded from the calisthenics, flexibility is terrible. The most basic level of ab and upper body conditioning forced me to take breaks while doing it.
The good news this promises that I can lose fat without having to do anything really involved; just basic body weight exercises. The other good news is that The Animals are OK with exercise. This is the first dog I've lived with that wasn't excited and mystified by exercise and wanted to help. And The Cat was content to observe from under the corner of the futon couch--without leaping out in a surprise attack.
Nothing fancy, the Marine "Daily 5"--five 5 count calisthenics (think toe-touchers, burpees, side bends, etc)--followed by "pyramid" pushups and crunches--3, 6, 9, 12, 15; and 5, 10, 15, 20, 25 rep sets of each, respectively. Still got the last set of pushups to go and I needed a break. Winded from the calisthenics, flexibility is terrible. The most basic level of ab and upper body conditioning forced me to take breaks while doing it.
The good news this promises that I can lose fat without having to do anything really involved; just basic body weight exercises. The other good news is that The Animals are OK with exercise. This is the first dog I've lived with that wasn't excited and mystified by exercise and wanted to help. And The Cat was content to observe from under the corner of the futon couch--without leaping out in a surprise attack.
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Zombie Hunter
Today was a bit of an extension of yesterday. HAD to do dishes. Had them stacked so I had a sink to work in. Just needed 30 seconds to wash 3 plates and I'd have space to work. So of course the plates tried to fall over. And while I was keeping the plates from falling over the bowls fell over and splashed dishwater all over the kitchen. So I got to spend 2 minutes or so cleaning up the kitchen. The Dog decided to execute yesterday's afternoon patrol again. At least there was a little overcast to make it slightly less brutal. But then she bagged a groundhog as far away from the house as she's ever been in a patrol--and committed to bringing it home. So. Black dog. On a 90 degree day. With a groundhog in her mouth so she couldn't pant. She made it maybe 5 blocks before she had to stop and started making coughing noises. I'd brought a bottle of water so I poured some into a (clean) poop bag and held it so she could drink it. She wanted nothing to do with that. So I tied the bag off for later and picked up the groundhog for her.
She's so much more calm about that sort of thing. The old dog never would've wanted me to carry a groundhog. She'd have pestered me about it the whole time back. But this girl was like "Oh, OK. Cool." The route home I picked went by the beaver pond (which is basically a mud wallow right now) so of course she cut down to it to lay in the mud and lap up what water there was. :/ When we got a few blocks from home, back on the streets, I set the groundhog down and let her carry it the final distance. She deposited it in the shade under the honeysuckle tree and didn't want what remained of the outdoor water bowl. Then when I went in to refill it she decided it was too hot to stay out there and came in with me.
So now Trash Day is three 90 degree days away and I've got a fresh dead groundhog as well as one that's so far gone the vultures have started on it. I may have to press the old septic tank groundhog crypt into service. :/
She's so much more calm about that sort of thing. The old dog never would've wanted me to carry a groundhog. She'd have pestered me about it the whole time back. But this girl was like "Oh, OK. Cool." The route home I picked went by the beaver pond (which is basically a mud wallow right now) so of course she cut down to it to lay in the mud and lap up what water there was. :/ When we got a few blocks from home, back on the streets, I set the groundhog down and let her carry it the final distance. She deposited it in the shade under the honeysuckle tree and didn't want what remained of the outdoor water bowl. Then when I went in to refill it she decided it was too hot to stay out there and came in with me.
So now Trash Day is three 90 degree days away and I've got a fresh dead groundhog as well as one that's so far gone the vultures have started on it. I may have to press the old septic tank groundhog crypt into service. :/
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Zombie Hunter
Oh. I forgot the rest of the mundane frustrations and disappointments:
As I'm finishing up cleaning up my spill, I realize I've somehow got a 1" scratch on the back of my hand. But at least it's shallow enough that it stops bleeding quickly. Then I decide all I have the time and energy for for lunch is a can of nuked shit. Of course for Convenience, now cans of nukable shit have a tear off top because can openers are too hard apparently. Trying to get it to pull without ripping off and spraying "food" all over (that will then need to be cleaned up) I manage to *just* slice the cuticle on my ring finger with the can lid. Try getting the food ready while hoping it isn't bad enough to require a band-aid but pretty quickly realize it does. By the time I get over the bathroom sink it's bleeding enough to start dripping so I'm fumbling a band-aid out of the box with my non dominant hand. Of course it is impossible to find the edge where the wrapper's supposed to peel open so I just start tearing pieces off the wrapper while my rage increases. Eventually I've got the band-aid ready to apply and wrapper bits all over the floor very close to the trash can but by now there's enough blood all over the finger that it needs to be cleaned up. But I dont' want to get blood on the hand towel and if I reach for some toilet paper I stand a good chance of getting blood on my shirt and/or the white bath mat. So I decide to just rinse it off with running water. Of course this works exactly as well as I expected it to--the finger is clean for a split second before the water, diluting the blood, winds up making it bloodier than when I started. Since, again, I don't want to dirty my towel, I decide to shake my hand dry which, of course leaves pink splatters of blood-water all over the sink. Eventually I get that cleaned up and a band-aid on.
Actually started my bookkeeping just now but my file cabinet is so overfilled that I finally had to pull some old files out to go to long-term storage. And of course as soon as I got up, The Dog decided she was rested enough that she wanted to go back Out to celebrate her trophy. So upon letting her Out I had to go refill the outdoor water bowl and open the garage so she has a cool concrete floor to lay on. Then I had to stop and get a mop and clean up the 2 dog-shaped mud stains in the kitchen and living room, where she'd laid while catching her breath.
At this point it's like "fuck it, I'm taking a nap after all," except now The Dog is Out in 90 degree heat (albeit with water and shelter) so I kind of don't want to risk falling asleep in case she wants to come back in soon. So I guess I'll get back to work after all.
[EDIT] Oh, hurray. I see that instead of going down from the high of 90 like it was supposed to, while I was typing this they revised the high to 93, which is what it is now. :/
As I'm finishing up cleaning up my spill, I realize I've somehow got a 1" scratch on the back of my hand. But at least it's shallow enough that it stops bleeding quickly. Then I decide all I have the time and energy for for lunch is a can of nuked shit. Of course for Convenience, now cans of nukable shit have a tear off top because can openers are too hard apparently. Trying to get it to pull without ripping off and spraying "food" all over (that will then need to be cleaned up) I manage to *just* slice the cuticle on my ring finger with the can lid. Try getting the food ready while hoping it isn't bad enough to require a band-aid but pretty quickly realize it does. By the time I get over the bathroom sink it's bleeding enough to start dripping so I'm fumbling a band-aid out of the box with my non dominant hand. Of course it is impossible to find the edge where the wrapper's supposed to peel open so I just start tearing pieces off the wrapper while my rage increases. Eventually I've got the band-aid ready to apply and wrapper bits all over the floor very close to the trash can but by now there's enough blood all over the finger that it needs to be cleaned up. But I dont' want to get blood on the hand towel and if I reach for some toilet paper I stand a good chance of getting blood on my shirt and/or the white bath mat. So I decide to just rinse it off with running water. Of course this works exactly as well as I expected it to--the finger is clean for a split second before the water, diluting the blood, winds up making it bloodier than when I started. Since, again, I don't want to dirty my towel, I decide to shake my hand dry which, of course leaves pink splatters of blood-water all over the sink. Eventually I get that cleaned up and a band-aid on.
Actually started my bookkeeping just now but my file cabinet is so overfilled that I finally had to pull some old files out to go to long-term storage. And of course as soon as I got up, The Dog decided she was rested enough that she wanted to go back Out to celebrate her trophy. So upon letting her Out I had to go refill the outdoor water bowl and open the garage so she has a cool concrete floor to lay on. Then I had to stop and get a mop and clean up the 2 dog-shaped mud stains in the kitchen and living room, where she'd laid while catching her breath.
At this point it's like "fuck it, I'm taking a nap after all," except now The Dog is Out in 90 degree heat (albeit with water and shelter) so I kind of don't want to risk falling asleep in case she wants to come back in soon. So I guess I'll get back to work after all.
[EDIT] Oh, hurray. I see that instead of going down from the high of 90 like it was supposed to, while I was typing this they revised the high to 93, which is what it is now. :/