The garage is full of boxes, many of which never should have been shipped, but they got loaded because I couldn't stop them.
We picked up our bikes this afternoon from Charlie and Deb Parsons's house, where they have been stored in Charlie's shop - my bike since Labor Day weekend and Maria's since I rode it down on Oct. 6.
There is barely enough room to squeeze the bikes into the garage and I'm frantically trying to empty boxes to create enough space to accommodate what's coming out of the last vault tomorrow morning. But I'm getting no help. So I've decided to say fuck it, get drunk and let the car go off the cliff.
I will, however, not permit boxes of kitchen stuff that could be quickly and easily put into cabinets and drawers, displace the bikes and I will throw them into the rain before I'll let the bikes sit out at night.
We discovered this evening that Ruthie has repeatedly pissed on the new dining room carpet, thoroughly soaking it. I am close to killing her. From now on, her life here will consist of her kennel in the garage and the back yard. I will not have an idiot incontinent dog wreck our new house. I will have her stupid furry ass put down before I will let that happen.
2 comments:
You know, the cars are waterproof. Kitchen boxes... not so much.
Sorry about the carpet. Could be the gal has nerves from the move- could be she has an infection from trying to hold it in for days on end while in the kennel/driving.
Take her to the vet before banishement.
Yeah, you're right.
Just feeling a bit overwhelmed.
We rented a rug scrubber from a supermarket today and will shampoo the carpet tonight.
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