Tuesday, February 17, 2015

I Am Not Hating the Groundhog So Much Today.

Today is my day to write, and I have not written about anything other than the Dodd-Frank Act, or Bankruptcy, or TILA-RESPA in a really long time. All the stars are aligned. I feel better; I got a big coffee at McDonalds; and, it is 33 degrees, which means I can leave the doggie door open without stuffing a sheet in the crack. Everything is going my way.

I get comfortable in my recliner and Pete twirls 3 times in my lap before snuggling in. We are set. Then it happened—that noise from the roof. I wish Chris had not thrown tarps on the roof, they just blow around and clank in the wind. As I look up, I swear I’m seeing a ghost descending directly down from the skylight. No, it’s just a spider web. Before I can follow that thought process to understand how a spiderweb could be dislodged inside, and it still be Chris’ fault, a bird comes swooping down from the skylight and around the room.

Having had Steve, the Jack Russell Terror, I knew immediately to  close all doors, even if not in the vicinity of the bird. I was prepared! I had experience! I was going to get a sheet and catch me a bird.

It all sounded so easy in my head. But that damn critter read my mind. I forgot to close the door to Annie’s room! Pete and I turn, and in perfectly-timed step, we toggle the bottom two stairs. He passes me around the turn, but thanks to Annie’s hidden pile of dirty clothes, I move into the lead. I leapt the last 3 stairs and close the door to Annie’s room, just as Pete tries to wedge his way through. I realize now that I forgot to fix the knob when Annie locked herself in her room 10 years ago. Or maybe it is Chris’ fault. 

I start piling up everything I can find, against the door.  The bird sees me and takes flight. From window to window it transverses the room, then runs along the floor—just like the Road Runner—under the bed and back to the first window again. Over and over and over. It does not want to fly into the sheet, and he tells me so. Hearing this, Wile Coyote manages to break into the room as Road Runner flees back under the bed. Wile Coyote is barking, sheets are flying, pillows are airborne, and in the midst of all this, the bed has somehow broken and resembles a Gymboree slide. Could this be karma for saying those women on the Bachelor wouldn’t make it a day on Prince Farming’s dusty acres?

In the midst of all of this, Chris texts me to say he would be home late. Since I texted him “no worries”, and also disclosed that I was in the heat of battle, with a brown thrasher, he decides this would be the perfect time to call and offer me strategic advice. And wanting to answer, “Hi Honey, WTF?!”, I just pressed “answer” and paused. He gets right to the point: 

Now friends, as you can imagine, there were too many replies in my mind to settle on a winner. So, Chris takes this pause to mean he has saved the day, and he can further inform me: 
“Put Pete OUTSIDE the room and CLOSE THE DOOR”. 

Really, Sherlock? This is your best advice? was my first thought. Thank you, You saved the day. was my second. But since both sounded too cynical at this point,  I just said, “Prepare Annie for the worst, and you have a bed to fix when you get home. I have a radio show tonight. I gotta go.”

However, while juggling Chris and Pete, the bird had flown out the window. I think.

I can relate to this short segment from Modern Family.

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