Monday, August 20, 2007
Monday, Monday ...
When I was heading back to the Manor after skirting responsibility all day, I was about to load up the POS SuperSaturn with my wheel barrow of work related paraphernalia when I discovered that I had neglected a complete a critical task that morning. You see, the squirrels have been destroying my crocus bulbs in their quest to dig up the emerging 7/21 year cicclids. So, they happen on my bulbs and think: MMMMM, this might be tasty. Argh. Go eat the damn bird seed you tree rats! In any event, I've been trapping them with live traps and relocating them on the other side of the turnpike. No chance that they will find their way back. Now I'm not trying to eradicate the population, I know better. Won't happen. I'm just trying to remove the sub-class that seems to have the gumption to dig up my flower beds in spite of the defensive perimeter claymore mines and the cybernetic hell-hounds leaving their acrid scent everywhere. So, I caught on this past morning and dropped the chattering little bastard into the trunk of the SS, cage and all. And there he sat, all day. Gitmo could have learned something from me. It was a relatively cloudy and cool day so he did not end up roasting to death, and when discovered ... was still filled with piss and vinegar about being trapped. I let him loose and he bounded off towards the near-by military base. Probably to pick up some plastic explosives and assault weaponry to get back at me. He disregarded the contract I had him sign saying that he would denounce his former 'anti crocus' ways. Damn tree rats.
Tyrants behaved as they usually do. All uppity in the pool and such. Don't want to go swimming, want to go to karate till it's time to get out of the pool. Then they want to swim and not go to karate till I remind them that it's dodge-ball Friday. Fickle little turds. Jake is still a bit under the weather and had a mini-meltdown in class. We cut that short! His 'tantrum' is usually him clenching his fists and screwing his face up into a whiny scowl and emitting a high-pitch screech ... like a wind-up to a major explosion or something. Usually I just have to bark out his name and he cuts it short. I've only seen him do it twice, but I let him know that it's not a behavior that I'll let go unchallenged. He is starting to learn that he will not get his way all the time and there are more ... proactive ways of resolving conflicts. This one will not work.
Saturday: do nothing but sleep in with a cruddy migraine and slum around all day. Pick some veggies, clean up the Master Suite a bit. Hang with the kids. Since the lawn is a perfect beige color now, mowing is not required. I'll certainly make sure that the sprinklers are turned on next year, the lawn looks like hell after this summer. The garden isn't much better off, but we do have about a dozen pumpkins that are looking quite spectacular now. A basket of very intense tomatoes too. Very flavorful due to the limited rainfall.
Sunday: more of Saturday's activity. We were planning on going to Sesame Place again, but forecasts of mid-day thunderstorms and a general malaise with the Tyrants but the kibosh on that. Genghis and Attila took turns napping on the Iron Maiden (New non-Hydraulic Master Mile Wide Bed), desperately trying to shake whatever NEW virus they managed to pick up. That, or the old virus mutated in both of them and they gave each-other a new bag-o-crap ... which I'm now coming down with. Nice. Indeed, each had a bit of a fever and the hacking cough prevalent in the Haupertonain TB Ward. The phlegm and snot runneth deep here, mind your step.
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