Where do I start? Honestly, there is no question now that some evil, drive-me-mad conspiracy is afoot. Every damn day it's some fresh hell to keep me from writing. Somehow, I managed to get through 11 months of the year--selling old house, moving to America, buying money pit new house--without having a daily crisis. Until November.
Ozzy had Alan and I up all night, wanting out about every hour or so. He's got diarrhea, he's throwing up, he's eating grass...crap. I really don't know what's going on with him. Ever since we've moved here, it's been an ongoing nightmare. He's been to the vet, is healthy as can be, but still, something is way, way wrong if he's doing this every week. I give up trying to sleep around 6:30am and just get up. Between two cups of coffee, my breakfast, and doing the blog, I have to take him out three times. Finally, he seems to settle down by mid-morning.
The garage debacle has gone from irritating to totally absurd. Yesterday, it was decided (not by me), that all the stuff in the garage would be loaded into a rental truck, parked in the driveway, and the guys would put in a Herculean effort to finish the entire two-bay floor in one fell swoop. (They've been working on one side, shifting the stuff to the other, back and forth, depending on which side of the garage they wanted to tackle). I suggested, rather than turn the driveway into a trailer trash parking lot, that we just put the garage stuff at the top end of the drive and cover it all with a tarp. We already had the painter van, our car, the painters pick-up truck, and now they want to add a frigging U-Haul...???? Sigh. One lone woman against four guys. Hopeless.
This is what showed up later in the morning. WTF..!!! We could have loaded the entire contents of the house in this thing. We only have the basic garage paraphernalia, like garden tools and ladders, etc. We didn't need a damned semi-truck that takes up most of the driveway. I desperately try not to wig out.
Ozzy had Alan and I up all night, wanting out about every hour or so. He's got diarrhea, he's throwing up, he's eating grass...crap. I really don't know what's going on with him. Ever since we've moved here, it's been an ongoing nightmare. He's been to the vet, is healthy as can be, but still, something is way, way wrong if he's doing this every week. I give up trying to sleep around 6:30am and just get up. Between two cups of coffee, my breakfast, and doing the blog, I have to take him out three times. Finally, he seems to settle down by mid-morning.
The garage debacle has gone from irritating to totally absurd. Yesterday, it was decided (not by me), that all the stuff in the garage would be loaded into a rental truck, parked in the driveway, and the guys would put in a Herculean effort to finish the entire two-bay floor in one fell swoop. (They've been working on one side, shifting the stuff to the other, back and forth, depending on which side of the garage they wanted to tackle). I suggested, rather than turn the driveway into a trailer trash parking lot, that we just put the garage stuff at the top end of the drive and cover it all with a tarp. We already had the painter van, our car, the painters pick-up truck, and now they want to add a frigging U-Haul...???? Sigh. One lone woman against four guys. Hopeless.
This is what showed up later in the morning. WTF..!!! We could have loaded the entire contents of the house in this thing. We only have the basic garage paraphernalia, like garden tools and ladders, etc. We didn't need a damned semi-truck that takes up most of the driveway. I desperately try not to wig out.
Most of the morning is gone by the time I shut myself in the Study and try to write. I'm on a roll, writing like mad, and have close to 1K in just over an hour, when I have to stop in mid-paragraph to take Ozzy to the park for his afternoon walk. I fix his lunch, which he doesn't touch, but we figure the fresh air and a good walk might make him feel better. Get to the park, he gets really sick (you don't want to know), we dash to the vet's. And spend 2-1/2 hours.
They do some tests, run him through the wringer, and there's nothing wrong with him. Except there is. We've been to the vet more in the last three months, then in the past three years in Scotland. So, he gets two shots--one to stop the puking, the other an antibiotic--he's on a 24-hour fast, then has to have more antibiotics and this special gastrointestinal food (at $25 a pop), and we still don't know what the hell is wrong. We get home 3+ hours after we left the house for the walk. And spend the remainder of the night taking Oz out every hour until bedtime. Then he got Alan up twice in the night, and I've already taken him out twice this morning. I'm hoping the food will make a difference, though that would be too good to be true at this point.
Needless to say, I didn't get back to the writing. Again.
I have decided this weekend will be my last attempt. If I can't make the halfway point tomorrow, then I'm throwing in the towel. I can't keep fighting the frustration, or the machinations of whatever conspiracy is trying to stop me at every turn.
Oh, and did I mention that the garage is still not done..?? With all the vehicles parked in the driveway, our house looks like something out of a B movie, filmed at the local trailer park...or a place where the Griswolds would spend their vacation. At least we don't have Grandma strapped to the roof of the car in her rocking chair. Though, the way things are going, that could be next.
They do some tests, run him through the wringer, and there's nothing wrong with him. Except there is. We've been to the vet more in the last three months, then in the past three years in Scotland. So, he gets two shots--one to stop the puking, the other an antibiotic--he's on a 24-hour fast, then has to have more antibiotics and this special gastrointestinal food (at $25 a pop), and we still don't know what the hell is wrong. We get home 3+ hours after we left the house for the walk. And spend the remainder of the night taking Oz out every hour until bedtime. Then he got Alan up twice in the night, and I've already taken him out twice this morning. I'm hoping the food will make a difference, though that would be too good to be true at this point.
Needless to say, I didn't get back to the writing. Again.
I have decided this weekend will be my last attempt. If I can't make the halfway point tomorrow, then I'm throwing in the towel. I can't keep fighting the frustration, or the machinations of whatever conspiracy is trying to stop me at every turn.
Oh, and did I mention that the garage is still not done..?? With all the vehicles parked in the driveway, our house looks like something out of a B movie, filmed at the local trailer park...or a place where the Griswolds would spend their vacation. At least we don't have Grandma strapped to the roof of the car in her rocking chair. Though, the way things are going, that could be next.
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