Monday, February 12, 2007
Back at the Manor, the Ever Vigilant Mrs was fretting over the hounds. Apparently, they decided to share a Volkswagen for lunch. She was rather concerned about intestinal blockage that could result from an improperly masticated engine block. Sooo, she left a message on the Vet's answering service and was hoping for an appointment the next morning. She got it, at the ass-crack-of-dawn. That pretty much 'masticated' most of Saturday morning for her. I spend my time feeding the kids a well rounded breakfast (scrambled eggs with mozzarella cheese, cinnamon toast and cereal and a side of $$$OJ$$$) followed by a hearty lunch of pasta, Sweet Italian Sausage and Wegmans Olive Pasta Sauce w/ Hearty Tomato Chunks. I tossed in a few cloves of garlic just to give it a bit of zing. They ate it. While they were fighting tooth and nail for the last scrap of meat, I tended the fire, swept out the Hound Detention Center, did the laundry, the dishes and started bringing in the firewood for the week. I'm saving the dog dip duty date for when the Mrs returns to the Manor. You know, I need to share the love.
After the Mrs returns, we all head out to the Local Home Depot Temple and the Lowes Heretic Central to look at tankless natural gas water heaters. On the way, the Mrs suddenly becomes faint and wilts like an molasses sculpture in August. There was projectile repercussions ... the Tyrants issued a citation for 'barking' in the car while the driver was driving. Indeed, it is a well established rule that there should be no talking to the driver unless the 'watchers' so deem it. Once the Mrs pulls her head out of the digestive fluid retention receptacle, there shall be admonitions. On the second leg of our outing, we found out why daddy does not spend much time at Lowes. I need a new laundry faucet since the old one in the mud room is on longer responding to requests to be shut off. A slow drip continues and no manner of washer mangling is helping. Time for the big-guns. So, after trolling the aisles and finding nothing but the fru-fru fixtures, I queue up to ask the solitary customer service rep about the super-secret location for the common faucet. Well, there are 4 people there before me. Two women and two men. The men took about a total of 10 minutes for their request to be fulfilled. The women, they needed a dissertation of how the Romans utilized plumbing and what looks better with the window treatments: brushed bronze or anodized platinum. After several discussions with the children about the pro's and con's of won-ton and brutal homicide, the hour was up and I got to ask my question. Yes, I could have interjected and probably should have, but I follow the rules. No matter how inane. So, when it came to be my turn, the poor fellow was reaching for the box cutter so as to open his veins to let the built up vitriol seep out. Alas, it was to no avail. The kids keen laser beam eyesight evaporated the blade before it sought the soft and pliable tissue of his withering limbs. I asked my question directly and succinctly: "I need a Delta Laundry Faucet.". Tears welled up in his eyes as the realization that the hellish nightmare was over. No colors, not styles, no nonsense. The only way it could have been more direct is if I gave him the stock number. We walked over as he shed is 'May I be of service to your abusive questions.' vest and pulled a box from behind an obscure shelf. He gave me a look that screamed 'I want to have your children.' and we gave each other a simple nod. Transaction over; 7 minutes, 40 seconds. On the way out, I grabbed a SOG utility tool, paid and headed back to the manor. The Mrs languishing in her co-pilot's seat and the Tyrants weary from their use of the ocular high-energy vaporization weapons.
Sunday: Religious indoctrination where I was asked to read the Homily between mop-up operations after the crafts session and before dispensing Valentine day's cards to the 12 or so children. Upon returning to the Manor, the Mrs was still in her steel-rebar reinforced insulated sleep-wear. I can take a hint. I instructed the Manor Environmental Agent (EVA) to raise the ambient room temperature from .01K to 68F. And all was good. The wood burning stove was maintaining the set temperature, it just was not bringing it up rapidly enough. No matter, I think our budget can survive ONE month of using the MegaFurnace as it was designed. Besides, I can survive just fine with one kidney after selling the other one, no? Speaking of digestive/filtering organs, the Tyrants have shown the Mrs and I that they are more than capable of fending for themselves. Over the weekend, they have surreptitiously absconded with three bananas, two bags of fruit snacks and an apple. I'm fairly certain they have stashed other 'famine supplies' about the property in caches that I have yet to uncover. I had better watch out for booby traps and trip-wires. They don't like their buried treasures being looted.[+/-] show/hide the rest of this post
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