My mom, my sister Laura and my niece & nephew are with us up in Wisconsin this weekend. Laura’s dog, too — a big, dumb undertrained yellow Labrador that my big dumb soon-to-be-ex-brother-in-law spoiled.
So my “rude awakening” for Saturday was my wife telling me that Whiskey (the Lab) had decided to get in a pissing contest with our dog Gato during the night, all over our coffee table. Gato’s a Japanese Shiba Inu, one quarter the size of a Labrador Retriever, so you can guess who won. Sue said Gato will get the last word, though, as Whiskey’s leaving first.
Graham and his seven-year-old cousin Jessica have their own pissing contests occasionally. This morning it was them contending over who gets to hold the portable DVD player on their lap. (We made them put it on the table.)
Last night cousin Billy beat the pants off everyone else at air hockey. Then he crowed about beating a kindergartener and an old fart (that would be me). He’s 13. Winning is everything.
It’s only 10am on Saturday, and I’m already mentally exhausted.
I wanna say this:
“Everybody get out! On the lawn. In the lake. Set up the hammock and have fun tumbling out of it. Anywhere but here, busting my groove during morning coffee time.”
But I don’t say that. The alternate solution is retreat. So I think I’ll set up in the hammock for myself.
Wake me if the house is on fire, people. Otherwise, leave me alone.