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Sleep deprived Buttery post
I could have sworn it was Saturday this morning. It really ought to have been. Nic was off for ‘April break’. What IS that? And why is it only one day?
Anyway – I slept like a baby last night. Woke up every 2 hours upset with something or another. Not quite screaming.
Drama + Butters + Sinus Tachycardia + son chatting on his ipad = no Z’s.
(I mean, he was seriously chatting – full on – carrying his conversation buddy around the house. In a moment of delirium, I actually thought a girl was in the bloody kitchen with him. Then I sussed it out.)
ANYWAY (she says again, and this time she means it)
My pitter pattering heart has been trying out all kinds of fun new ways to present itself to me lately. ‘Ben Gay like warmth’ feeling … left armpit pain … then last night, it got sassy on the drums … brrrrrrrrm, burr, brrr-bump. And then something in my chest grabbed a tambourine and started showing off.
A friend taught me to cough to get myself back into rhythm – so I lay there, coughing like a dork.
THEN there’s Butters. Oh Butters.
Don’t let this image fool you. She does. not. sleep!
For two weeks or so – every few hours from 9pm until my alarm goes off at 6am (not that it’s had a chance to go off for the last week), she stands inches from my face and whines and wags.
I get up, let her out – and then leave the flipping front door open so she can get back in.
You see the crack? And you’ve seen her nose – so seriously, WHY can’t she ‘nose’ her way back out?!?! She sure as hell can do it when a cat walks w/in a mile of the house.
I might as well just put an ad on Craig’s List inviting any local wackos or serial killers to my insanely unsecure house at night.
“Come on in! Doors open! I’ll just be in my room, trying to sleep. Be as quiet as possible when you kill me.”
Why does she sleep inside? Our fence is chicken wire basically … I think intended for really apathetic, frail chickens. And we have coyotes out and about.
In between the fun excursions to the flipping door – the tiny snatches of sleep I grabbed onto, (which, resulted in nightmares) Waking up to Nic church mousin’ around the house and my heart getting all excited, I woke up (pffft … didn’t really ‘wake up’ so much as ‘give up’) none too pleased.
I tried to have a chat with her.
She didn’t care. She assures me she’ll be doing it tonight too. And the night after that, and the night after that.
And the thought occurred … when she’s older, and not energetic – probably I’ll miss the spry insomniac that she used to be.
Predatory Lending … but with cute stickers!
It’s started. The unsolicited offers to my just turned 18, High School attending son.
Who could resist? Teens can choose from an adorable kitten sticker or how about a fun “I’m Fine How Are You?”one?
All for the low, low APR of 29.9%. But, wait! Act now and the first year is 0% APR! So you can rack up a nice bill before it changes depending on the market!
Ah – those video games you don’t have the money for right now? Don’t worry … charge it!
You’re 18 – you are now legally able to spend more than you can pay back.
Fingerhut will be stalking him next no doubt. Is Colombia House still around? Guess I’ll know when he gets a shipment of 6 CDs for a penny … with only 6 more to buy.
Get off our kids!
Lazy Sunday after a night with CHUPACABRA! :-O
Guess where I am. 3 guesses. Okay, here’s a teeny tiny clue.
Lazy lazy day so far. Woke up at what I thought was 8:20 am. Which confused me as I usually don’t sleep in, no matter what time I go to sleep. I wished with vehemence that my dog was capable of making a pot of coffee. She was still busy snoring too – so there was no teaching a young dog a trick.
I gave up on the coffee fairy and took the plunge out of the warmth of my blankets. Clocks in the living room and kitchen said 7:20. What the heck? Either my time zone savvy alarm clock got confused or someone was messin’ with me.
I went to bed late last night too! I swear, I try to milk every last moment out of the weekends. I’ve described it in the past as a tired toddler refusing to go to bed. Even though they’re tired.
I told a friend, ‘hey! When we became ‘grown ups’ we were supposed to stay up as late as we wanted! Pffft. Too tired to stay up so late. No fair.
So I was watching the SyFy channel and got sucked into a stupid B movie that, since I’d invested some time watching, wasn’t about to STOP watching until I knew how it ended.
The cinematic masterpiece was Chupacabra vs the Alamo. Which doesn’t really make sense since … oh, *spoiler alert* the chupacabra wasn’t actually battling against The Alamo, they just happened to end the movie at that location.
Screen shot of the star of the movie.
Yes ladies and gentleman, that IS in fact the one, the only … Erik Estrada.
And now … brace yourself for a screen shot of THE ‘Chupacabra’.
Almost peed my pants laughing at that picture. Oh, it might not look threatening in that photo (like, not at ALL), but the CGI guys must have had their budget increased mid-way through and shocked us with shots like this:
Scary, scary! Then things got a little nostalgic … Aw. Wouldn’t have been complete without a couple few scenes of Ponch on a motorcycle. (Oh, and he was a cop. I love when actors stretch themselves in a role)
Enough bagging on a man who is still working. besides, no one made me watch it. Got to admit, I love low-budget films. SyFy channel rocks.
So, now I’m at the laundromat and in between writing this epic, poignant post – switched the laundry from the washers to the dryers. Ah yes, I can multi-task. From literary genius, to domestic goddess. Snort.
I was out of ‘lives’ in my Candy Crush game when I left the house, my son encouraged me out of my lazy stupor by pointing out that when I got here, I’d have lives. I retorted, ‘lets face it, if I’m headed to the laundromat and looking forward to playing Candy Crush whilst there … I don’t have a life” He agreed. LOL!
But I do. I have an important obligation to fill you in on the little things. Who else is going to tell you about an Erik Estrada movie they just watched? Hmmm? Who will?
You’re welcome.
Butters vs the chihuahua
Ah Tuesday morning. I’d just waved goodbye to my sick son – feeling a little guilty sending him off to school as stuffy and half awake as he was.
Fed the dog, grabbed some coffee – dressed in a long black skirt, a pink sweater and black knee-high boots.
Plenty of time to relax and play a little Candy Crush on my ipad as I sat outside and enjoyed the breaking dawn.
Chaos erupted.
It sounded like a pretty gnarly dog fight.
Crap. Where’s Butters??
I none so gingerly plonked my ipad onto my wicker table, spilled my coffee and panicked.
What to grab?
What’s going on?
Get the mace???
No … that’s gonna hurt! And let’s face it, since I don’t react too calmly in chaos, probably I’d be the one hurting when I accidentally sprayed myself in the eye instead of the source of the growling and frantic barking.
Big stick. I spied a big stick and grabbed it – bravely and briskly walking toward the ruckus.
Butters was going berserk. Absolutely, totally, kitten on crack crazy over the neighbors chihuahua.
(The only picture I could find related to Chihuahuas and Butter lol)
It had slipped under its fence and was under some illusion that it stood a chance against my 65 lb Sharpei/Sherpherd mix.
It stood (about 7 inches from the ground to the tip of it’s little snack like head) snapping and snarling from the opposite side of my barely-a-fence.
It’s more like chicken wire … big gaping holes that a very small dog could simply walk right through and into the mouth of my dog.
Please know, Butters is by nature a lover, not a fighter.
She gets excited when strange dogs go by – wags her tail and wants to play. Cats – not so much. And what she must have been thinking was “WHY is this cat barking and baring its teeth so close to my territory?!” Meanwhile, she was jumping up on the flimsy ‘fence’ and trying to get at the ‘barking cat’.
My first attempt to separate them resulted in Butters slipping her collar. (Insert Butter joke here _______)
My second attempt, after inserting stick in between dogs, left me with only one option.
Pick up angry, barking, snarling dog and carry her inside.
Remember now, I’m wearing a long black skirt, pink sweater and boots.
Nice.
Sixty-five pounds feels a lot like one hundred and sixty-five pounds when it’s still snapping and wriggling and thrashing it’s hindquarters in an angry tantrum.
I plop her down in the house and catch my breath. My heart is POUNDING. I can not DO exertion. No, seriously, I have sinus tachycardia, and walking up a flight of stairs feels like I’ve run a marathon.
But no time to waste. I have to leave for work in 20 minutes and there’s still the issue of the rat dog.
I exit from the side door, much to Butters chagrin. I hear her miserable pleas as I meet up with the trouble maker outside.
He follows me – rather pleasantly as I head to his house.
“C’mon, let’s get you home.” He trots along beside me.
Now, Chihuahua lives with a friend. Friend is a corgi. Corgi seems nice enough.
I arrive at my neighbors gate and read the ‘Beware of Dog’ sign.
“Well”, I reason, “I’m WITH the dog”.
And corgi is nice.
In I go. Dog is now home and I ring the doorbell to let them know they need to patch the fence so tidbit doesn’t wander into Butterland.
No answer.
But I do now hear the corgi.
Who proceeds to leap up and nip my arse!!!
Keep calm! Dogs can smell fear! Do NOT emit any dog-fear-pheromones!
I ring the bell again.
Nothing.
I now have to make it from the front door – to the gate to exit.
Crap.
The corgi is eyeballing me – and preparing to make another move.
I reach the gate and gently block the attack with my boot and scoot out to safety.
I’m now left with having to patch up the escape route myself.
I’m picking up rocks, pieces of wood – the dogs are at the fence, snapping at my hands when they get too close to their faces.
10 minutes ’til I have to leave for work.
I decide I can’t risk coming home to carnage. Butters will have to stay inside in our absence.
Felt awful all day. Poor thing. Was also praying she would use my bathroom if she couldn’t hold ‘it’. (The tile being easier to clean I mean. Obviously she can’t use the bathroom … I wish!)
Grabbed some ‘U’ fence posts on the way home (kissed $23 goodbye for those) – figured I could at least reinforce the ‘flimsy’ so she couldn’t leap out after the bugger.
Stopped by the neighbors, who still weren’t home, but did get to explain what happened to a friend of theirs who happened to be out front.
Came home, threw off my dog hair covered black skirt and pink sweater and went out to sledgehammer in those posts.
Considered using the hammer another way – but I borrowed it from a friend and don’t want to stick her with evidence.
Jumping spiders and Buddha too!
Thursday at work, I noticed in my peripheral vision ‘something’ on the wall in front of my desk. I glanced up from being very busy and important to see a little spider. Okay. Little is good. Wall is good. Carry on.
He was industrious because not long after that my peripheral radar alerted me of an intruder on my desk. I laid eyes on him and decided it was time he went outside.
You may be thinking now that I am ‘bug brave’. I am not. I don’t do bugs. But I can’t just kill one either. So I do bugs when I have to. Even scorpions in the Summer get caught or vacuumed up in the bagless machine and placed outside.
Yes, my blood pressure rises to an unhealthy level, yes I have nightmares, yes I’m unreasonably itchy for hours afterward in some psychosomatic state – whilst my eyes dart around the room incase it was just one of one hundred, but I really do try not to kill them
Back to spider.
So I’ve decided he’s going out. (For all intents and purposes, it’s a ‘he’ apparently).
I get a slice of paper and put it in his path. Surely he’ll waltz right onto it and I’ll simply carry him out to the leafy bush outside.
He didn’t know how to waltz. But he had leaping down!
This is the part where I’m squealing like a little girl. Audibly.
A lot louder in my head – trust me, but my vocalizations finally get the attention of the loan officer at the desk across the room.
I explain that no conventional method of capture is going to work for this guy. “Help me! It jumps!” might have been the actual verbiage I used.
He meandered over. “Where is it?”
Good question – I’d taken my eyes off of it. Peripheral Powers Activate!
I focused in and there – on my desk – was the spider taking the last few steps to hide under the shadow of my shut-up Buddha. You remember him?
So he’s at the base of Buddha’s rock. Probably meditating on how much higher he could leap at me should I go through with my attempts of relocation. (The shut-up Buddha isn’t working by the way, I bite my tongue and look at him, but unedited words still fall out of my mouth all day long).
“Get an envelope” the loan officer says. Oooo! Good idea. Yeah – we can encase him safely for the trip!
Goes off without a hitch.
I scoop up the envelope.
“Don’t squish it”, he says – as I close the flap gently, just in case. No! I didn’t Close it close it – just put it down so there was no escape route.
Outside I go with him.
There. He’s happy. He’s free. I’m happy (a little itchy and looking around the room, but happy).
Back to work we go.
Fast forward to Friday.
Alone in the office – peripheral alarm starts to bleat out a warning.
What the heck?!?!
On my wall – a jumping spider.
I’m fairly certain the other guy didn’t find his way back in – so as I was telling my friend Betty, we’re left with the only reasonable, non-alarmist, sane answer – Jumping Spider Infestation!!!
(Okay, probably there might be a little family. But I’m sticking with infestation).
I emailed the loan officer something that could have passed for a telegram SOS.
“Help! Spider! Infestation! Should close office!”
He responded sometime later that yes, sounded like immediate closure was called for.
Followed by a damn winky emoticon. Pfft. Those ‘winky’ things mean someone is kidding right? I was left with the real danger.
I made it unscathed through the day. And this morning – my Betty puts this horror on my Facebook page.
It’s over four minutes long, you won’t need to watch for that long to be itchy and darty eyed the rest of the day.
Happy Spider! Saturday!
Debauchery Soup 