Short Weekend

Unfortunately, I have no picture to accompany this post, which is such a shame.  But alas, I don't sleep with a camera.

It was 5 am.  The normal sounds of Matt shouting at Hans ("Bad dog! Bad!  Okay, lick my feet, good dog.  No Jumping! Bad! Bad Dog!") woke me from my deep sleep.

I peeled open my eyes only to see a dark figure, dressed to the nines in work clothes, looking around for socks.  I sat for a moment, perplexed by this familiar Monday through Friday scene.  And then, after three minutes of watching Matt finish up his early morning routine, I realized it was Sunday.

For a moment, the trickster in me thought about letting Matt drive to "work" and figure things out on his own.
But then again, I was tired of him rustling around making noise.  So I broke the news:

Me: "Why are you wearing your work Uniform? "
"Because I have to go to work."
Me:  "Babe, it's Sunday.  Didn't that kind of feel like a short weekend?"
"It always feels like a short weekend."
Me: (to myself in my head)  "Really? Really!? Because weekends usually feel long to me.  You know, being cramped up in a crap hole of a house with no one but Matt and those savage dogs running around.  Weekends are not short my friends. Weekends are long."

Dog Number Four?!

After a long day of work, I returned home to find a small puppy gallivanting around the neighbor's yard.  "How cute!" I thought.
Then, trailing just behind the puppy, was Matt.  And that's when I realized the new dog didn't belong to our neighbors, it belonged to me!
On a routine shopping trip at Home Depot, Matt explained that h picked up the puppy from someone giving them away for free.
The next day, he was ordered to return the dog, and below you will find their first and last picture together.
Stay tuned for my next post, where Matt auditions for the TLC series "Hoarders".

Hepatitis

I was willing to accept Curacao (a Dutch owned Island in the Carribbean) as an impoverished country after I spotted a skinny dog running the streets in search of trash.  But when the hotel staff allowed Matt to waltz around and dine in the restaurant without shoes, I realized we were honeymooning in a third world country.  Much to Matt's surprise, Hepatitis was the soup d' jour.

Matt Makes Friends With A Monkey

When I visit the lake I bring a bathing suit and the self confidence to pee in the water.

Matt brings his bathing suit, his 'special monkey' to give him courage to pee in the water, and a back up beer can in case he gets shy.

He also brings TP and an anchor in case things get rough on the high seas.



Package Adjustment

What Is Matt Doing?

Is he...

1)  Looking for loose change?

2)  Playing 'pocket pool'?

 OR.........

3)  Adjusting for the big (small) reveal! 

Just so everyone knows, he stole those from my panty drawer.  

Doctor Matt

Would you let these crazy eyes check your heartbeat?  Didn't think so. And neither did I.  I quickly swatted that stethoscope out of his hand, and just in the nick of time too.  The ER doctor I'd be waiting several hours to see popped in minutes later.  I'll be honest, the last thing I wanted was him questioning why Matt had thousands of dollars worth of medical equipment strapped to him like he was about to perform surgery.
Sorry Matt, keep your back alley doctor's service to yourself.

Which Made Me More Nervous?  A) When "Dr" Matt referred to it as a "stethamascope" B) When he placed it against my right breast C) When he said "I can hear the ocean" D)  When his forehead started sweating at the prospect of a "nekkid" exam.

Answer?  ALL OF THE ABOVE

Matt Rents a Boom Lift

Here's Matt waving the arm he almost hacked off with a saw.  Oh, and that's the Boom Lift he rented from Home Depot to cut down our backyard tree (does anyone find it odd that Home Depot just let him take it for a day without any instructional course?).  It came in super handy when the tree started leaning towards our house.  In an act of desperation, and sheer genius, Matt rammed the tree with the boom lift and successfully knocked it in the opposite direction and away from our house.  Although, now that I think about it, that tree falling on our home may not have been the worst thing in the world.  It would have saved me from all the home improvement projects that have since followed.

Uber Safe Demolition Outfit: Your Birthday Suit!!

One evening in the summer, after a long day at work, I returned home to find a half-naked ghost buster wielding a hack saw in my bathroom.  Oh, wait, it was Matt.  Safely remodeling our tacky pepto bismal pink tile wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a breathing mask.  Needless to say, he got a tetanus shot a few days later.

Sleeping Beauty

These worked well to keep out the light when I would read books in bed... until Hans ate them.  I have since emailed the picture to Matt's work, where I'm sure (and hopeful) that colleagues are circulating it around the office.

There are dogs in our bed.

Dogs In Our Bed

One Spring, Matt's dog died.  That's when the collection began.  First it was Emmee, a trampy-looking stray from a local rescue.  A few months later, Hans flew first class from California, and immediately started crapping in our house.  Now, they are convinced they own the place.  They chewed up the DVD of our wedding pictures, eat food off the table when we're not looking, and Hans has developed an intense infatuation with my underwear.  What's worse?  Matt thinks he's going to start a dog breeding operation.  Did I mention our home is 1800 square feet, with a hole in the side of it?

There are holes in our house.

It is 25 degrees outside, but that didn't stop Matt from sinching on his trusty contractor belt, lacing up those fancy steel toed shoes, and removing an exterior wall from the converted garage in our house.  His remedy to keep the warm air in?  Shove a towel in the crack between the door and the floor.  GENIUS!