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Stupid Human Tricks

October 3rd, 2008 (11:52 am)

current mood: embarrassed

I got an e-mail from my sister-in-law (the most devout Auburn fan ever) this morning asking me to go to this site:

Battle of the Bands

and vote for the AU marching band's version of the Indiana Jones theme song. This was no problem for me, because I enjoy marching bands and I'm all about Auburn, as long as they're not competing with Alabama. They are competing with Clemson, LSU, Georgia, Florida, Texas, and USC. The winning band gets a $25,000 donation from Paramount Pictures and LucasFilm Ltd. If you can bear that theme song seven times, it's fun to hear the different arrangements (and see the ways some of the bands paid homage to the Indiana Jones movies). Texas added their own little twist at the end that cracked me up, and the LSU dance team's outfits are clever.

When Tim is gone and I have the care of EZ, life becomes a weird juggling act. Last time, I spent the nights in his apartment with EZ, and set up my laptop over there so no matter which house I was in, I could access my LiveJournal because that's just how important you all are to me. This arrangement left me feeling guilty, because wherever I was, it meant somewhere, dogs were spending long hours alone.

I realize that most of you leave your animals alone for eight to ten hours a day, and they're fine. I know mine are fine, too. In my head. But The Compound dogs are used to two people who work on the premises. They can say, "Hey, it's time for me to take a bio break," or "Sweet mother of God, the mail carrier is back to kill us all," and feel reasonably sure they'll get a reaction. They have their routines, and we all like it that way.

EZ doesn't play well with others, so I can't just have all three dogs running crazy in the same place. Since I want to sleep in my own bed, and I have some plans for Tim's apartment (I'm renting it out to these nice chemists, Tim--at least, they said something about a "lab"), Tom brought EZ's crate over here. I've set up all three dog crates in the dining room (in my line of vision) for the duration of Tim's stay at Rex Camp. In theory, I can crate EZ and let the girls frolic, then switch out and let EZ wander the house while the girls are crated.

What actually happens:

Guinness paces through the house wailing for no apparent reason.
Margot claims EZ's crate as her own and never wants to leave it.
EZ is at Tim's, alone, after being fed.
I feel guilty again.

I decided to take the girls out for a run around the grounds then crate them, then bring EZ back to my house. I wanted to get back inside quickly, because I was still in my nightgown. But when the girls and I went out, there were about a dozen mourning doves just outside the gate. I was so happy to see them--the first time I have since Ike blew through--that I decided to refill the empty birdbath to lure them back home. Then I noticed the flowers in one of the beds looked a little wilty, so I started watering. Which is when the mail carrier came. Other than the fact that I looked like a madwoman wandering the grounds in my nightgown, this was an absolute joy for me, because the second my dogs began barking at her, I sprayed them with the hose. Sweet justice!

Unfortunately, things went downhill after that. WHY, when I'm trying to roll up the hose, does it always catch on something, slowing down the process long enough to allow my neighbor Jason to walk by and see me IN MY NIGHTGOWN? Then three huge utility trucks came down the street and parked IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE, and I had no choice but to trudge past them IN MY NIGHTGOWN to get inside.

This could be why Tim doesn't wear a nightgown.

Disgruntled prison bitches:

Oh, save your pity. They're all three snoozing and happy, full of dog biscuits. I'm going to shower and dress now.


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