This was our forecast:
This was the result:
I’ve been seeing these online recently. They claim to be really good for the dogs (or cats) because the fake fur reminds them of their mother’s fur and that creates a better sleep. It might all be a load of poo poo, but I thought I’d share this and see if anyone has had any success with these.
True, we just bought our dogs new beds and true, we have a house that’s covered with moving boxes that we should be focussing on…but hey, who ever said I’m logical?
Shhh! I’m supposed to be packing and putting things into boxes. But I snuck away from things for a second to do this post. No one knows I’m here.
We’re finally moving today. There are things everywhere. My lovely hubby is running around the house shoving things into boxes with little or no sense of order. The dogs definitely know something is up and they’re following us around the house like shadows.
I didn’t sleep well last night, partly because my ongoing cold made an unwanted comeback and partly because I was so nervous about today. The movers are coming any minute now. We have a very kind friend coming to unhook the TV’s and hook them back up in our new place. There’s a internet guy coming to the new place to make sure we have internet today.
It’s going to be crazy.
I did explain to both fluffy doggiest how things were going to run today. I was very clear that they would not be left behind, that they were coming with us and that they would have a brand new house to explore and a brand new yard with a lovely new fence. This seemed to reassure both of them (well, that and the kisses that went along with the explanation) and they’re more relaxed now.
Hubby took one look at my face this morning and went to get two XL coffees.
Oh oh. He found me. I gotta go.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that my hubby is still giving me the evil eye. In a display of incredible genius, I thew out my hubby’s new, never-used winter boots along with our other extras going to Goodwill. So, yesterday, we were back at the stores getting him a second pair of boots.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that our doggies know something is up. They keep watching us putting things in boxes and sniffing the contents with concern. I don’t know that they understand exactly what’s going on but I think they certainly know somethings up.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that, as much as we have already done, it seems that there is stuff to pack everywhere you look. The garage itself is a nightmare for packing that I dread even starting. How do you pack a rake? A bottles of nameless fluids? Cables and brooms? Tools none of which are the same size?
Definitely, more coffee is needed.
We’re trying to sell our house. Did I share that with you? It’s been crazy here, so I might have completely dropped the ball on that. Ahem! News! We’re trying to sell our house. Now, most people try to sell and then buy a new house. Not us. We went looking and found a house we liked and suddenly, wanted to sell our house.
Of course, the problem with our approach is that now we’re desperate to sell. Desperate because if we don’t sell, we lose the house we want.
In order to sell, we have to clean, clean and then clean again, we have to get rid of those quirky things we thought we’d use and haven’t and we have to fix everything that might be wrong with it.
This means we’ve hired a contractor to put a new shower in a bathroom, we’re painting floors and giving things away to anyone who so much as approaches the house.
As a child, moving meant new friends who didn’t know I was a complete geek. It meant we could eat out more. And it meant sneaking forbidden toys into moving boxes.
Now, I have explained we’re moving to our doggies, who seem completely relaxed with the entire idea. In fact, they seem a little too relaxed.
I might have to keep a closer eyes on our boxes.
Well, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just let our two trees sit there and die. It was a job that was way too tough for me to do alone in spite of my amazing muscles. (ahem!). So, as soon as hubby was back from his therapy thing, I asked him for help.
The trees were behind these partition plastic things the drillers had put to guide the clay down to the drain. It hadn’t worked and the clay had accumulated into this massive puddle. It stinks, sucks any boot you’re wearing off your foot faster than you can say help and is a nightmare to wash off.
It was a coordinated effort between my hubby and I, but the truth is he did the bulk of the work, finally liberating the squashed fir trees from their prison and dragging them to the backyard. Once there, we had to protect them from our curious fluff-balls of dogs who immediately wanted to know what we were up to and then, of course, make holes for the new residents of the yard.
A good couple of hours later, we had planted, fed and watered our trees. We were exhausted and more filthy than I can describe. We stunk like the clay and had bruises and scrapes from the pine needles of our rescued friends.
We were also jubilant.
Sure, our two trees are a little worse for wear and sure, they might still die; but we’ve given them a chance. It was awesome.
Only thing is…our yard now has 6 new trees…and it’s starting to look a lot less like a yard and more and more like a forest.
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