I Don’t Understand

Remember how I told you about my busy weekend? And how the weekend culminated with me helping mom rearrange her very heavy bedroom furniture?   I mean, super heavy, the night stands have 3′ granite tops and they were the lightest things in the room kinda heavy?

If you can't lift the furniture, all the sliders in the world can't help you!

If you can’t lift the furniture, all the sliders in the world can’t help you!

Okay, good.

So, that Sunday night I got a call at 9:45 from my mom.  I might paraphrase a bit, but below is how the conversation went:

Mom: What time is it?  We unplugged all the clocks during the move and I don’t know what time it is.

Me: 9:45

Mom: Okay, good, I wasn’t sure if it was 8:45 or 9:45.  Oh, guess what? We broke the bed when we moved it.

Me: Really?  No way!

Mom: I sat down to get ready for bed and it fell apart.

Me:  That’s not right!  I didn’t notice.

Mom:  Me either, but your dad is down in the garage getting some tools.  I guess even if we have to put a screw in it, it is still hand carved.  No one will know.  But I think we need to move the bed.

Me:  What do you mean?

Mom:  I’m not sure I like this layout.

Me:  I don’t understand.

Mom:  I wanted the bed over here to get the breeze, but I think the headboard will block it.

Me:  I don’t get it.

Mom:  We may have to go back to the way it was.  You think you might have some time this week…

Me:  I don’t know what you are saying.

Mom:  (pause)  Maybe I can wait for your sister this weekend.

Me:  You are living with it for a week!

Mom: Well, we do have to fix the bed – here comes your dad, he’s a sight in his slippers, underwear and tool box! Oh, he doesn’t find this funny, I gotta go…

Click.

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Disclaimer:  Dad, on the off chance you find this blog, I’m hoping that we’ve gotten to the point where you find the story funny! 🙂 xoxo

Dog Days of Summer

Twice a year my parents take the grand kids camping.  Normally the week between Christmas and New Year and one week during the summer.  This summer we weren’t sure if it was going to happen as our schedules have been insane; however, we worked it out and they went last week.

My sister was able to stay at the house the first couple of days, and that helped, as my parents have a huge fish tank and three dogs.  You’ve met the dogs before, as I posted about my experience watching them over the Christmas break (If you missed it, you can read Gone to the Dogs here).

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Mom and dad’s dogs look so peaceful here, Zack, Zoey and Cassius. Don’t let appearances fool you!!

Monday night my sister texted me about midnight.  Mom and dad’s neighbor had texted her, thinking she was still at the house and asked her to bring the dogs in the house – since they had been barking for 30 minutes and they weren’t getting any sleep.  So, I got out of bed, got dressed and drove over to my parents house intent on putting the dogs in their crates.  Only, their crates weren’t there.  They were gone, and in their place were just some dog beds.  Apparently my parents have stopped crating them at night and they dogs just sleep in their beds.

That’s all well and good, except I can’t find the crates.  So, if I’m up at midnight because of their dogs, I figure my parents won’t mind a phone call.  I call my dad, who sounded pretty lucid, so I figure he hadn’t been asleep long, and asked about the crates.  He told me where they were and did express the fact that he felt badly that I had to do all of this, and then he told me to just lock them in the study and close the doggie door.

First thing in the morning I was back over there to let them out.  This went on for several days, locking them in at night and then letting them out in the morning – and, to keep them company, I would stay over there for several hours each morning so they weren’t too lonely.  I’m just good that way! They got fed, they got attention and they had the run of the house and the yard during the day.  You’d think that would make for some happy dogs.

Then I walked in one afternoon to this:

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The chair was blocking the hallway…

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The chair AND the ottoman had both been moved by several feet.

My first thought was the house had been broken into.  But, no, all of the valuables where there.  So, I took the pictures and sent them to mom “Either you have a ghost or the dogs are rearranging furniture when I leave”

I put the chair back where it belonged, picked up the trash they had gotten into and went about my day.

Until that night when I walked in to lock them up and this was what I saw:

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Now, I have no idea if the bottom of the chair was damaged before (as all of the dogs have played under that chair) or if they knocked it over and tore it apart.  All I know is that now the chair was knocked over.

At this point, I just resigned myself to the fact that these dogs were nuts and to not offer to ever watch the dogs again.  The next day my sister was coming back to town and I very happily washed my hands and left them in her possession!

For the record, my resolve not to watch the dogs ever again didn’t last long.  I will be going through all of this for a week in November.