This was quite the weekend...
Friday night served as time for Mr. F's mom to decorate. This woman gets down when it comes to the presentation of her home. I brought all my wreath parts and put it together while visiting. How nice and cozy.
Saturday consisted of work until one and then I came home to find Mr. F waiting for me so we could go get the bricks he found on CL. I'm thinking, how hard can moving some bricks be? Ends up it's pretty hard. In total there was about two tons or so. :F Even in a built tough Ford we had to make two trips. The first trip was... interesting. We left the house and stepped into fresh air perfect weather sunshine goodness. We got to the bricks just in time for the now cloudy sky to open up and offer the first drops of the torrential downpour that would effectively soak us while we moved the first million bricks. I was sent back to the interior of the truck so that I could be spared. That didn't last very long. Let's face it, it's a small area with nothing to do. Mr. F sat out the part of the storm that blinded you and did we just seriously see hail? Then we both went back out and finished the job. Back at the house it was time to unload the bricks into the backyard over our no gate wall. We then went to dinner with some friends. Once home Jim did not meet us at the door, he was more swaying in the hallway which is bizarre behavior as he usually celebrates our homecoming. I don't know what happened but he couldn't walk very well at all. He couldn't turn his head or put it down to eat or drink, nor could he wag his tail. When he did take a couple of steps his whole body was stiff and he walked with roach back until finally just giving up and looking at us for help. He was all fucked up like he had massive amounts of pain or something. After doing the initial freak out, I carried him out back to let him pee and then tucked him into bed so he would stay still hoping some bed rest was all he needed. Oh yeah, there was also the poking, prodding and squeezing I put him through just to see if I could *find something*. I have a wait and see week philosophy when regarding animal injury or illness so we had six more days anyway. Besides, I work in a vet office. They'd be the first to push aside my philosophy and treat the problem. That left me 1.5 days to carry my 55# sick dog around the house and yard. I could hang. Mostly because I am the master when it comes to 55 pounds of anything and my ability to say "honey, can you get this for me with your massive man muscles?" Works every time. Admiration and all that.
Sunday we wake up to Jim still in all kinds of pain but seeming a little bit better. Since we had to go get the other million bricks, I made him a little bed in the back seat of the truck (he wanted to go with us and his pathetic tries to get to the door broke me down) and off we went. Commence part two of the brick gathering and moving. Holy shit were there a lot of bricks left. For some reason, when there is a massive job for me to complete and it ends up taking longer than one sitting, my mind remembers the entire process being smaller and easier than it is. Maybe it's just doing that so I will actually go back to it. I mean, had I remembered how many bricks there truly were, I would have stayed in bed that morning and then slowly sipped my coffee and waited for his return. Mr. F's brother came by to help with the last of the stacking in the yard since I was about to collapse. How sore are my muscles? How sore was Jim? By the afternoon, he was gimping around the house saying hi to us and checking out our work. By the evening he was doing his little hop thing at the door and wagging his tail. This morning he was totally fine except for favoring his right front leg a little. Of course once it was time to be checked out by the vet, he was in such good health he actually jumped onto the examining table himself. I am now perceived as someone that blows things waaaaay out of proportion. Which can be true, but not when concerning my dogs health.
I don't know if you are aware, but there have been discussions about my little piles everywhere habit. I have pondered this for a while now and I finally figured it out. The first thing we need to recognize is my need for things to do. The second is my total disregard for anyone else I am living with when finding a place for my half completed tasks. I'll put it anywhere but the kitchen really. Food stains and potential fire hazard. This is not good. I mean, it's not totally bad, but it seems to put people out. I came up with the solution of giving me a place in the house that I can use to put everything that is all over the house. We had another discussion and realized there is stuff everywhere because there is no designated place to put it all. I am all about keeping things neat and orderly and Mr. F cannot live in chaos. It bums him out. I am now the proud owner of my very own kitchen nook corner! I had all ready kind of claimed it with my little craft organizer plastic drawer thing so it made sense. It's also out of the way and not visible until you are coming in the back door. PERFECT! I am going to find one of those corner desks on CL. I will finally have a place for all my paperwork and crafting materials. I will not only have a place to do anything I want but I will also have a man whose patience is no longer tested with so pretty inanimate objects. Like I need little piles to do that. Come on, give me some credit here.
The pictures of the yard and empty soon to be full of desk and my stuff corner are in the camera. I'm lazy and tired. It's either nap time or coffee time but not picture time. Oh well. Maybe later.
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