Here is a typical conversation (monologue) I have with my best audience (the dogs/cat) during inside morning chores:
"Ooooo, Binkers! Is that a lightly flipped egg on your green sludge? Whoa! Down boy - no leaping! Okay, Lovey-dovey, here's your egg and sludge, too. Now, try to chew something. (Sound of Hoovering). (Insert sigh.)
"Hm. Slimmie liked his dry food yesterday. And I see that he's slopped half of his wet food all over the floor. I should clean that up. I wonder if I should be feeding him something else. Rachel Ray has a good brand and she's local. Of course, Purina - who has made billions on the back of pet owners over the years - is his fav so far. But, then, shouldn't I be supporting a local person? Wait. Should I be supporting a local "celebrity" person? Someone who is also on her way to making millions off my back? What would Slimmie think of a change? Cripes, the last time I had a moment of social consciousness and changed his wet food from his Friskies Tasty Treasures to that really, really expensive cat food in tiny cans, full of very, very special ingredients like greens hand-picked off the sides of mountains by monks in Tibet, he hated it. (Insert sigh) I just have to face the fact that my cat prefers a McDonald's diet and I'll just have to slip in the best stuff I can. I wonder who has the best coupons..."
"Okay, everyone! Time for Cheesies!!! (Insert sound of mad scrambling and too-long toenails on vinyl flooring) Ha, you guys don't even know I'm slipping you a mickey (Benedryl for Binkers and pain pill for Lovey) because you DON'T CHEW!"
Looks down to see Slimmie, who has inserted himself between the dogs and waits, expectantly.
"Of course you want a cheezie, Slimmie. It's Velveeta, you heathen." Slimmie takes his bit of cheezie and gums it madly. (Insert another, longer sigh).
I am lucky that both dogs are not picky - AT ALL - about what they eat. As long as it's forthcoming in a steady stream, they are happy. Slimmie is just a homie with a homie's taste. Our favorite Santa Claws from PA sent him a packet of very special treats for Christmas - freeze-dried minnows! After he got over his initial fear of them, he then tentatively took one in his jaws and walked around with it for a half hour, growling. Unfortunately, by then it had thoroughly rehydrated and fell to pieces and he lost interest. The Binkers was on it like a cheap suit. That dog can hear the lid of the whipped cream can flip off, or the whisper of minnow pieces falling on carpeting and be there in an instant. I can stand on the back deck and yell his name (and many other 'colorful' names) in full voice, and he cannot hear me. It's a mystery (to no one).
So, how did I spend my Tuesday night? I'm so glad you asked! I spent my Tuesday night making a tarp slipcover for the Quail Hutch. This should come as no surprise from the same woman who fashioned an apron out of duct tape. I had carefully measured it (more than twice), cut out all of the pieces and duct-taped them together, being careful to duct tape the hems - as is done in The Trade. Then I realized that I had to put it on the hutch to finish the corners. Ah. There was just one tiny problem with that - heavy snow and gusty winds. While this should have taught me that procrastination has a heavy price, it won't. I am doomed to repeat my limitations forever. Amen. I did manage to slip it over the hutch (it fit!) and then had to bungee the sides down. Now that I am so close to finishing it, I am sure we will have some sort of awful weather every single day until spring, so I can't complete it. I will take a picture of it at some point - when I can get over flagellating myself... We're bracing for Arctic temperatures for almost a week - joy. That means the wool blanket curtains are back in the coop as of tonight - I have to work in the dark so as not to be blind-sided by The Jerk. Wish me luck.