Dingo Ate My Baby Crazy

Life has been interesting the last few weeks (and the next few promise to be as well).  First of all, I’m still searching for signs of possession in my car.  I’m not sure I’ll ever really be able to trust it again.  There was a fantastic weekend of Flogging Molly and Greek food (there is an upcoming post with recipes. I promise).  This week I’m getting a new roof and discussing the ever fascinating (and unstressful) topic of financial aid.   Next week a new garage door and going to a family reunion. Wait, did I mention the snakes?  There are snakes in my front yard.  I think three of them.  One of them dropped from a weed I pulled and fell in my lap.  I dislike snakes.  The kids next door are now much more fluent in creative cursing.

I’ve never had my roof worked on before.  Have you?  I wasn’t really sure what to expect.  They said the roofers would arrive on Tuesday morning between 7:00am and 9:00am to begin work.  They were here promptly to load the materials on top of my house.  Then they left without a word.  (I was actually okay with this due to a migraine.)

This morning, I started having the strangest dream though.  In my dream, there is a giant Space Monkey.  He’s got a space suit, giant fangs and red eyes.  Generally, I like monkeys…unless they’re trying to rip my roof off to get into my house.  My confusion began when the sounds didn’t stop when I woke up.

Eventually, I realized the roof really was being torn off…by people I was paying for the priviledge.  They started work at about 6:30am.  Not a bad plan considering the heat index for the day promised to reach nearly triple digits.  However, I wasn’t prepared.  Nor was I ready to meet a strange man in my backyard when I opened the door to let the dog out. He got a nice view of my pajamas.  I’m sure it made his day, with all the wild medusa hair and everything.

We’ve talked about my neurotic dog before, right?  Oh yeah, chock full of neurosis.  Of course, he refused to believe that it was okay to set foot outside the house that sounded like a space monkey was ripping…okay, from a dog kind of view, I can get that one.  If it sounds that bad from inside it must be much worse out there.  I did not have the energy or the time to fight him on this one.  Dexter did go outside, because the two-legged people are in charge.  However, once there I could make him do…nothing.  Eventually, I was forced to just put him in his kennel and start my day.

My migraine hungover body took my space monkey stalked mind to work.  The day was…okay.  Not bad, but didn’t have very many redeeming qualities. I briefly considered a meal at Kilkenny’s including a nice cold beer, but I ditched that notion.  I’m sure the dog was crossing his little puppy legs, begging to go out.

Ah yes…the dog.  Apparently, roofers are not his favorite people.  Who knew?  I wondered why the table in the living room was knocked over, but I thought maybe the vibrations from the roofers knocked it over.  It was pressed pretty tightly to an exterior wall, and it is a tiny table.  Then I walked into my office…

I was less than thrilled.  See the golden blur at the bottom of the pic?  That’s the Jerky Dogface trying to tell me how happy he is that I’m home to protect him from giant Space Monkeys…and make up for the fact that he knows.  He knows he’s in trouble for the…destruction.  I scratched behind his ears; searched for obvious injuries; checked to see the new(ish) Mac still actually worked and the screen wasn’t shattered; and went to change clothes to start the clean-up.  That’s when I discovered the closet, the back of the couch, and, frankly, I’m afraid to check out the guest room.

Dexter really doesn’t like roofers.  I can’t be too mad at the Jerky Dogface.  Who can blame him for being scared?  I left him alone with some incredibly weird noises going on.  I’m a bad dog parent.  I should have planned better and taken him…elsewhere for the day.  Next time, I’ll plan ahead. Although, it kills me that all this destruction took place so he could create a new den six inches to the right of his kennel.  Six inches! (Okay, Jessica, breathe.)

The financial aid discussion got postponed, a call was made to my Camp Bow Wow about day camp tomorrow (because I really have no idea if they’ll be back), and clean up began…with the help of some Jameson’s.  Jameson’s was definitely a necessity.

My week may not be getting less stressful, but…well, what’s life with out a little stress?  I’m looking for a bright side here people.  The snakes can keep the front yard.  That is the least of my worries at this point.  Also, I need a new kennel, possibly a trip to the vet…and another bottle of whiskey.  This one is about tapped.  God help the Space Monkey that attacks my house tonight!
‘Til next time,



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