I have plenty of complaints—and the usual Actual Conversation,™ but first I need to update you on a critical issue.
One I’m sure—if you’re a regular around here—has been on your mind of late. Probably keeping you from working (you’re welcome) or even getting a good night’s sleep (I’m sorry).
Because I know you’ve been deeply concerned for a certain member of my family.
For those who are new here—or who actually, I don’t know, work while they’re at work*—here is a quick primer on Clara and why we love her and why her health is so important to me. For bonus Neurotic Points, the kind friends who gifted her to me moved to Ohio, which means I will literally never see them again because I can’t prove Ohio exists;** if Clara dies, my friends will die. That’s just how gifts work.
But fear not! Because…
That’s right, I am now officially a Person Who Can Grow Things. Practically a farmer, really.
I’m thinking of getting a snake plant next. But then someone suggested a pineapple tree and Husband didn’t say no…
Speaking of Himself, you’ve just reminded me of how he mocked me the other night and now I’m mad at him. So yeah, that pineapple tree is as good as mine…
HIM: Alexa, what’s the current temperature?
DOGS: (get crazy excited because they know what’s up)***
ALEXA: Right now, it’s 48 degrees. Tonight, expect a low of…
HIM: (questioning look)
ME: Yeah, she needs a coat. I’ve been giving her one if it’s below 50.
HIM: Okay. (puts coat on Brindle)
ME: Not because she needs it for actual warmth, but because of her hips. And I can’t exactly send her out in pants…
HIM: How would she poop? (pats Brindle, sends her Outside!)
ME: Honestly, if Ruffwear made a pair of leg warmers that fit up over the hips but kept the whole (gestures) region open—
HIM: So they could pee and poop.
ME: Yeah. I would own that shit in a heartbeat. “Oh, $200? Sounds good—can I get free shipping on that or… no? Whatever. Overnight ‘em!”
HIM: … Did you just suggest assless pants?
ME: (points accusingly) Why you gotta mock everything?
ME: THAT’S MY BRAND! (storms off)
ME: (from down hall) CAN’T EVEN LET ME HAVE ONE THING!
HIM: (laughing, follows me) You’re just mad I said “assless pants” before you did.
ME: (glares) They’re called chaps.
* Lunacy. I don’t support it, and neither do 9/10 doctors. Sit with that.
** Look, all I’m saying is the Cincinnati airport is in Kentucky. I had a two-hour layover that confused the crap out of me and when I asked anyone about Ohio they looked at me blankly. So.
*** It will come as no surprise to any of you that the dogs have caught on to the ways and patterns of the demon box and have rightfully concluded that she’s in charge now. They don’t pester me for breakfast anymore, they just stare at her and wait for her to start bleating news updates at me; they don’t expect to actually go outside until the demon reports on the current weather conditions… I’ve been fully replaced in their eyes.