This past weekend was hell, or at least as hot as.
Saturday we had several errands to run. We were to drive up to Dayton to attend an auspicious birthday party for our favorite one-year-old boy. While we were up there we would pick up the old grill that some other friends were gifting to us for free. And while we were out, we would do some more clean-up at the apartment. Two out of three of these things required that we make use of SuperVan. But SuperVan does not have air conditioning. But we could combine errands. But no air conditioning. In the end we went for expediency and our faces melted off in the SuperVan. We did not find out until later that the Cincy area had declared an excessive heat warning. After I had gaped like a fish because I felt like I couldn't breathe in the oppressively heavy, hot, nasty, icky-sticky passenger seat. D got a nice headache that he got to keep for the rest of the day. I don't know if I've ever felt so thoroughly rotten.
In other news, we still have not caught the groundhog. The cage sits empty, freshly baited with tomater bits. The internet, which cannot be trusted implicitly, has all sorts of ideas to get rid of them. From bubble gum to saving and dumping your own pee around your yard (before your next garden party, ladies!). The more you surf around trying to find out about the experiences that people have had with g-hogs (sorta rhymes with jihads), the more you see words like "battle" featuring in those experiences. Like the gardener at Gardening Under the Influence, and at Garden-Share, where they have named their g-hog Khadafi.
Some nutty people, though I'm sure they are nice people, some nutty people feed them because they think they are cute. Clear proponents of 'matercide. Shameful.
Indoors, D has made headway on the dishwasher cabinet that he and the dad made.
(before) dishwasher where fridge used to be, all nekkid and stuff.
(after) wooden cabinet effectively dampens noise, tile laid today by D
I've unpacked a lot of boxes, only to re-box some of them to better organize their contents for storage until winter, or to sell to Half-Priced Books, or to give to Goodwill. The kitchen is much improved, but somehow there always seems to be one more box with kitchen stuff in it. Some of this is because moving-time has coincided with time-to-trade-out-super-old-silverware for wedding gift silverware, or to time-to-pare-down-to-one-set-of-cookware. We sold the washer and dryer on Craigslist. Now hopefully that paves the way for the dozen more things we need to try to get rid of. Couches. Old TV. And on, and on.
We haven't been lazy. No sir, progress is slowing for another reason entirely.
So, we kinda brought home a dog?
this is a test. if this is an actual puppy, there will be an adoption.
There was a dog-rescue group that was set up at Petsmart, looking to get the dogs they'd saved from shelters into nice homes. And Jack-Jack is a silly name for a dog, we agreed, as we drove him to our house. But somehow we've ended up sticking with the name Jack for now. D wanted to name his dog Argos, after the dog in the Odyssey, but he doesn't look like an Argos.
Actually, D has just told me that he does look like an Argos, but the dog can only keep the name if he stays. Because you only name the puppy if you plan to keep him. Which is funny, because this is exactly what I said to my friends when D and I first started dating and they asked his name.
Okay, I know what you're thinking. Wedding! House! Dog?! Slow down, girl! Look, this was totally an accidental home visit. I did not go to Petsmart to pick up a dog. We went to pick up kitty name-tags and there were puppies in front of the door. In front of the door by the register. This was practically unavoidable!
Speaking of kitties, this home visit is one week. We're gauging how dog and cats interact to see if there is compatability.
I'm not sure about Yuuki though.
Does he look depressed to you?
We keep hugging the kitties, and telling them that if they are unhappy we are kicking this mutt to the curb. So far, they haven't said anything though. I'm trying to keep my eyes open to make sure that our boys aren't feeling overly stressed by the change. It's hard to tell. Much change too soon, perhaps.
We'll let you know.
Doggie is fostered with Pardoned Pooches of Cincy.