Last holiday of the year, day four

I took four holiday days to extend my Labour Day long weekend to a labour week.

So far, it's been quite literal.

My big plan for the time off work was to envision, plot, procure materials and borrow tools for the construction of a dog house for our two rambunctious puppies.  Hell, I even bought a bundle of roof shingles to do it up right.  I may still be thrashing madly in the throes of a love-hate relationship with the four-legged members of this house, but if I'm going to build them a shelter for those times they get booted out of doors and are forced to survive in the increasingly savage and unkempt wild that is our backyard, they sure as heck aren't going to get wet or blown away while on my watch.

I'm even planning trusses for the roof.  My mind, being the way it is, has also come up with the one-liners I can use on my wife when I come in from my manly toil.  Gems like: "Man!  I sure did a lot of screwing this afternoon!"  or  "I came in for a glass of water because I was so board."  or  "Baby, it ain't just two by fours that are getting nailed today."  Sometimes we love each other in spite of the rest of the personality that comes with the good stuff.  My wife and I are both thankful for that.

Amy, the doll, is also ecstatic that I'm on holidays.  Another pair of hands.  Between seven AM and nine PM I find myself in possession of one or both of our sons and my wife is glimpsed out of the corner of my eye as she languishes on a dais, fanned by svelte pool boys and hand-fed peeled grapes by Orlando Bloom look-alikes.  She's enjoying the domestic tag-team.

This time off has obviously resulted in less time available to spend frittering away on the computer.  (Not sure what that says about my computer habits while actually at work, so I won't get terribly introspective about it.)  I feel guilty taking five minutes to check my inbox while I rush to the basement to change loads in the laundry.  Which brings to mind Tavish.

Holy SHIT can that boy puke!  I've mentioned it in passing here before, and Declan was much the same at the same age, but I can't put into words the juxtaposition of marvel and frustration that is engendered by the younger son's ability to regurgitate so much of what he's fed.  THIRTY to FORTY times per day.  The laundry alone is nearing insurmountable, never mind the agreed-upon silence my wife and I share at the perfunctory cleaning of carpet and upholstery.  (Free stock tip: invest in Febreze.)  Suffice to way we've taken to turning a blind eye when an audible splatter on the hardwood is accompanied by the now Pavlovian clacking of dogs' toe nails.  One less for us to clean up.  I don't know how much lower we can sink.

If I can scrounge the time, I'll update again this week and perhaps post a photo if I manage to turn my good intentions to something more tangible.

Comments

[TerriTorial]

That Tag Team you've got there is a wonderful thing!!!

Pics of the dog house please!

[Mark]

Nice banner. My wife already has informed me that she misses the banner I had, so I might reinstate it.

The dogs' role in the puke cleanup made me glad I wasn't drinking morning coffee while reading this. Kind of like the Tic-Tac line in CBB's latest story, that detail really made me feel "there" (but it wasn't quite as pleasant in this case).

If I posted pictures of my meager addition of flooring to my attic, then you certainly must show off your progress on the dog house. I'm impressed that you are building an entire... umm... building, all by your lonesome.

[Paula]

Um, isn't this your penultimate holiday of the year, since you'll be absconding off work for two whole days in November?

[rick]

Sounds like the dogs and Tavish are living in happy symbiosis, so no need to avert your blushing gaze. Plus they're getting a new upscale urban home into the bargain.

[Simon]

Paula, I'm technically classing this as my last holiday of the year since the November thing will, in my mind, just be a long weekend. I'm anal about labeling things that way.

[Paul]

I laughed. I cried. At the same time.

For some reason, it's all too familiar.