Le mongrel

While I was on vacation I received an email from our IT Director (sent to everyone in our department) asking that we please get to work by 8:30, so this morning I got up at 6:30, took Zach to school, and sat in traffic for an hour and a half. About halfway to work I realized I needed to use the restroom. There's nothing worse than being stuck in traffic when you have to go to the bathroom, but thankfully I made it to work without disaster.

Thankfully my boss informed everyone in our weekly group meeting that she wanted us to continue working the hours we've been working to provide broader coverage hours, which is fine with me. There was quite a bit of grumbling from everyone because traffic is a bear in Atlanta, particularly between 7:00 and 8:00. But it was nice to see Zach off to school.

Zach was the ringbearer in Lavi and Michael's wedding this past weekend. He wasn't nervous a bit, perhaps because no one else was. I tried to be as nonchalant about everything as possible. There's nothing worse than getting ready for a big event wrapped in pomp and circumstance and hearing, "You're not nervous are you?" from everyone you see. They may as well add, "...because you should be". I think he was a tad nervous, because of the way he set his jaw, but otherwise you couldn't tell.

Afterwards he asked me, "Did I do good Dad?". I raised my eyebrows, looked over my nose and patted his head as I said, "You did well, my son."

Yesterday Monica left me alone with the kids (and dog) while she went shopping. The dog started whining, and I began to wonder if it needed to go outside, if ya know whut I mean. I don't touch the dog. So I asked Zachary to take it out, however the little nasty slipped away and began to cavort around the house. The horror. It snuck under the couch, and I made the mistake of sticking my head halfway under there to see if I could perchance grab the little dear. The most awful dog-stench wafted up my dilated nostrils, and I wretched while I tried to move my head somewhere less polluted. Apparently the underside of the couch quite nicely trapped the smell of the unwashed animal for later release into my face. "Trap" being the operative word.

We finally got the filthy beast moved outside, when lo, who should come traipsing by, but Miss Esther, who somehow let the mongrel in again. That's when I called Monica and "suggested" that she come home "as soon as possible".

*Sigh*. Don't ever buy a dog, much less a house dog. No matter how cute your wife is.