You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘work’ category.

here is why I’m probably not cut out to be a mom. Basically, I’m lazy. I’m lazy and I like TV. And quiet. QUIET. Quiet with the laziness and the television-watching. I cried at least twice a week for the first few MONTHS that we had Boris because he was always looking at me to entertain him, and then going into his whine-whine-whine-whine-FULL ON FREAK OUT BARKING mode within seconds when he didn’t get what he wanted. I’d like to say it was diligent training on our part that corrected that behavior, but really what happened is that he got older. He’s only about 6 now, and he still has his intense and noisy moments, enough that we still think he’s the same old Boris.

Until.

Until we get a one-year-old puppy in the house. A puppy who could play non-stop for hours all day every day and then keep going until the end of time forever and ever amen. Yes, I am talking about the Cough Drop Eater. This dog spent like four or five HOURS at his Wednesday doggie heaven (a trainer takes 3-4 dogs to a hundred-acre off-leash area for the afternoon) and still showed up at my house at 5pm RARING TO GO. I suddenly remembered the feeling from the Beginning of Boris on those rare occasions he was actually tired and would sleep in the middle of the day or the evening – and not just that “I’m lying down and my eyes are closed but I’m still ready for action at a moment’s notice” kind of sleeping, I mean the “full-on, legs doing the pretend-running, snoring, can mess with their paws and ears and smooch on them all you want and they won’t wake up” sleeping – and it would be the sweetest release. Because the former brand of sleeping, when you know they’re not really sleeping, they’re just lying there, probably plotting what they’ll destroy next, is such that even though you know they’re not really sleeping, you still relish the moments that they are lying there calmly and not bugging the piss out of you. The kind of sleeping where you’re just sitting there, looking random crap up on IMDb, and realize you have to pee, but you know as soon as you make even the slightest movement – like leaning forward out of your chair – that dog will DART RIGHT UP like Oh! Is it playtime? You’re getting up! It must be for me! What are we going to do? Go outside? GO OUTSIDE? PLAY?! ARE YOU SURE? HERE, LET ME THWACK MY TAIL IN YOUR FACE 8 BAJILLION TIMES BECAUSE YOU MUST HAVE GOTTEN UP FOR ME! so instead you keep sitting for as long as possible while doing a cost-benefit analysis: Peeing Your Pants vs. Waking The Dog. And then you pee your pants while trying to decide.

Okay, that didn’t happen. I don’t pee my pants. Anymore.

That feeling, though – the anxious “is whatever I think I need to do MORE important than the fact that the dog is resting right now?” – is constant with a new dog in the house. It’s exhausting, being vigilant. Anytime things are too quiet I look around frantically, trying to figure out where he is and what he’s chewing, even though I have at least three dog gates up in various doorways of my house. A little while ago we were all outside – Baxter trying to get Boris and/or Vinnie to play with him, me trying to finish my book because it’s just getting to the really climactic part – and he started barking, trying to entice my dogs into playing. And that’s when it struck me that I would be the laziest goddamned parent ever, because I was all WILL YOU DOGS BE QUIET SO MOMMY CAN FINISH READING HER BOOK AND DRINKING HER COFFEE? GOD.

Advertisements
One of my many, many (HI, DID I MENTION I AM OVER-WORKED*) clients this week is a new client. They have two cats and live in a very nice three-level condo. You know the kind with like eight bathrooms, 25 closets, and two bedrooms. Awesome space planning. What? Am I jealous? Well. Maybe of all the closets. Anyway. It’s newly built so the kitchen is that magazine-looking style with beautiful cabinetry and granite counters…yeah, maybe I’m jealous of the kitchen too. But! Back to the story. The kitchen sink has a faucet kind of like this:

You know, where you can pull the end of the faucet out and there’s a cord and you have an adjustable sprayer to move around the sink? And they have a button or something on the faucet for your water streaming options? And why am I explaining this like none of my readers have ever seen an adjustable sprayer faucet before? Anyhoo. Their faucet doesn’t have a button, it instead has an adjustable knob at the mouth of the faucet (is that even what that part’s called? Where the water comes out? I am no rocket scientist).

ANYWAY. So today I’m rinsing out the cat dishes, and pull on the end of the nozzle (heh) to change the water from spray to stream. Except I pull the ENTIRE END OFF so that water shoots straight out of the faucet. LIKE A WATER HOSE. IN THE NICE NEW KITCHEN. Like this:

Except much more water. It felt like minutes, but I’m sure I only stood there gaping at it for a few seconds in shock. Then I started to put the knob back on the faucet, unsuccessfully, I might add, before thinking to, oh, TURN OFF THE WATER FIRST. Genius.

Once I got that taken care of, the two cats, who had been behind me chowing happily on their canned food, were hiding underneath the dining table looking at me with huge eyes like DUDE. WHAT THE HELL.

*I’m not really over-worked. Seriously, any excuse to use all caps. EMPHASIS IS FUN.

Just a heads up that yesterday was the start of what is apparently the Grand Marathon of pet-sitting. It seems like every hour my clients are calling me for pet-sitting for the next couple of weekends. The last ten days of this month will bring in 70% of my income for all of August.

So. I’ll be working a lot. It may make me tired. Which may make me crabby. But maybe not. I feel I am always delightful, no matter what, and you can agree with me or not but I see you nodding in agreement so there!

Email

zooaskew[at]gmail[dot]com
October 2017
S M T W T F S
« Jul    
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031  

I said what?