Complaint Department

08.03.06

Column time.  Dang, I forgot I have to write a column and I really have no idea what to write.  Should I write about how my dog chews up everything, from remote controls to cell phones to $200 eyeglasses?  Should I write about our recent weekend away, without the kid, and how it was in some respects fantastic, and in others not exactly how I imagined it would be?  What to do, what to do?

 

Having a chewed-up remote control is really a pain.  My daughter loves the book character Madeline, and recently received a DVD from a friend.  But she’ll only ever see the first episode (about Madeline and the pirates) because selecting the second episode (about Madeline and the gypsies) requires a working remote.  Without one, we are limited to putting the disc in the player and pressing “Play.”  That’s it.  No scene selection, no playing around with menus or extras.  No skipping previews.  Egads.  It’s like living in the dark ages.

 

At least the chewed-up cell phone belonged to my husband.  And it’s his dog.  So there.  I don’t even want to talk about the eyeglasses, but let me assure you, it’s HIS dog.  Why does the dog chew things up?  Well, she needs exercise, of course.  A fence?  Yeah, yeah, but I’m getting a deck this year.  My available project budget (which includes both time and money) is all used up for the year with that.  So I should walk the dog.  But she’s too much dog for me, so instead of me taking her for a walk, she takes me for a drag and I get totally annoyed.  Did I mention it’s his dog?  Oh, yeah, I guess I did.  Never mind.

 

Moving right along… a weekend away with my husband.  Sweet.  Very sweet, actually.  What’s really amazing is that he lets me make the most diabolical plans for things he has absolutely no interest in, and then he tags along and pays for everything.  Does it get any better than that?  Truth is, he’s so grateful for a weekend away from his work phone that he’d be willing to subject himself to almost anything I can come up with.  His price?  One full night of uninterrupted sleep.  Preferably on a Sleep Number bed.  Oh my goodness.  Have you slept on a Sleep Number bed?  It’s like sleeping on a cloud.  Or a steel girder, I suppose, if you prefer something firmer than a cloud.  Your next weekend away try a Radisson.  I recommend the one in Roseville.

 

We talked about the kid a lot.  Like… when is she going to be potty trained?  (When she decides it’s time).  What should we get her for her birthday?  (A new bike?  A Hot Wheels race track?)  When the heck is she going to stop sleeping on her floor and sleep in her bed again?  (Refer to question number one about potty training).

 

And we talked about the dog.  We brainstormed “dog solutions,” and managed to come up with, “Next summer’s project will be a fence.”  We heard of a perimeter fence, like the invisible fence, sort of, but no buried cables.  You set the thing to cover a certain footage perimeter, and when the dog goes past the boundaries it gets zapped.  I don’t know.  My dog might find the prospect of chasing deer worth a zap or two.  I just hope she doesn’t catch one.  I’ve seen the deer run.  I’ve seen the dog run.  To my untrained eye the dog is faster.  Eeek!  Also, someone has to test the strength of the electric shock collar before the dog is subjected to it.  I’ve been voted to be the guinea pig, but I don’t think electric play is one of my kinks.

 

Anyhow, we ate good food.  Had fun shopping.  Talked and laughed and enjoyed one another.  We don’t get enough time forthose things in our daily lives.  We got a little lost and one of us said, “I told you we should have gone the other way,” a phrase that originated after a speeding ticket fourteen years ago in another part of the country.  It’s good to realize that we still like each other as people, and that although we each have changed, we understand that change is inevitable and somehow we accommodate for each other’s growth.

 

Sometimes a weekend away is just what the crazy life ordered.