Whether you read this blog or something I've posted on a message board or group/list/loop, or even if you've received a private e-mail from me, you can be sure of one thing: If it's more than one sentence long, chances are good to excellent that it was not written in one sitting. In all likelihood, I got up several times during its composition because of something to do with Baby Bear. (Future post there.) So I don't get much writing done on weekends.
New items for the list of things I would rather see go wrong (if they must go wrong at all) when the husband is at home:
6. Dogs are digging at least two new holes under the backyard fence.
7. The sliding glass door is starting to stick along the track. This is not good, especially if it gets bad enough that I can't close the door. The only other access to the backyard is through the windows in my office and the master bedroom. Going out the front door and through the gate is out of the question. We keep that gate padlocked on the inside because Baby Bear is an even bigger escape artist than those dogs. (Another future post there.)
8. Jasper got out of his harness. Our dogs don't have collars, but harnesses. Mr. Lucky says it makes it easier for both dogs and master when they're leashed and out walking. I can put a collar on a dog no problem, but the harness presented quite a challenge, especially with my limited fine motor skills (see last blog entry). It took me half an hour to put that tangled mess back on the dog, and I'm still not sure it's even on right. To his credit, Jasper was very patient and cooperative at first, but after a while he got a little perturbed with my inability to figure out which part went around his neck and which behind the legs, and what to do with the middle strap. I had to check the other dog's harness to see how it was on, and he was never cooperative at all.
And while I was thoroughly distracted and frazzled by this, my son the opportunist went into my office and started rummaging around stuff. He knows I keep chocolate stashed in there, but that's the last thing he needs. I don't drink, because I have to stay sober and keep a clear head to look after that boy--so I must have the chocolate. (Cherry cordials, both dark and milk chocolate, 97 cents a box at Wal-Mart. I cleaned them out.)
Last night he dumped a bowl of macaroni and cheese into the sink full of dirty dishes--I think he rejected it because it was the wrong brand (yet another future post there). I had a lot of fun picking the macaroni out of there. Then he was up at 4 a.m. playing his electronic keyboard with the volume turned all the way up. I don't count these as numbered items, because these two incidents, believe it or not, are all in a day's (or night's) work for me.
Number of times I got up during the composition of this post: 3