Coming home last week, slow day, cramps and all over exhaustion.
Thinking about a glass or two of wine, a hot bath and going to sleep.
Tate rolling full steam ahead as usual, cutting grass, caring for equipment, preparing dinner. Tate grills on the deck nearly 350 days per year. I am not complaining, trust me, but I enter the house this tiresome evening and realize how rude of me it would be to not pitch in and do a few chores inside the house.
I take the Plow and Hearth compost bucket out to the compost pile, then dead -head a few flowers on the pathway back to the house.
When I get to the front door, ready for the bath, I look down at Kramer the Stink Terrier. Again, he has found something putrid to roll in.
I whisk him to the outdoor tub and shampoo him twice. I leave him outside to dry and shake.
"I had to bathe him twice to get the stink out of him this time" I say.
"You're leaving him outside to dry? What if he rolls in whatever it is again ?" Tate asks me.
"Then I will leave him outside all damn night!"
Tate puts on his puzzled face, "How will he know why he is being punished and locked out all night?" (Kramer hates to stay outside without one of us outside with him)
"I will just lean out the door and TELL HIM WHY, THAT'S HOW" I reply with the utmost sincerity.
"Oh, I see. Things have been so much better around here since we took Kramer to those English classes haven't they?"