Anyway, I can’t say I really like what she’s done with the place. I can’t BELIEVE they have an 89-inch flat screen TV!
AND TWO dogs! One is “Millie” and if ever a dog called be referred to with complete legitimacy as a “mutt” or the oh-so-politically-correct-and-precious “mixed breed”, it’s Millie. She defies description and now, having said that, I am going to harangue with you a lengthy, so-adorable description. (And witty, too.)
Millie is medium-sized, like on the large end of lap dog, but still okay to jump up on you just a little bit but not too much when you first meet her. (Are you charmed yet?)
Oh well screw you then. Millie is a yappy pain in the ass and so is Dave, the poodle. These two idiots start barking like they’re being cattle-prodded at the snap of a leaf, in the winter when the windows are closed and the heater’s going full-blast.
And then that gets the baby going, that kid is miserable enough, what with knowing I’M here and his colic!
There’s the two beds for the dogs, their dishes and the baby’s room is overrun with stuff, including a gigantic “vintage” “Jeffrey” from Toys ‘R Us and the room, while not a bad size for a baby’s room, really doesn’t need that taking up the southwest corner, right next to the crib. I see major climbing in this kid’s future. Yeah, mommy, you WILL find him hanging on the drapes one fine day, well, not HANGING, hanging-off-of that is to say, and you’ll wonder why it never occurred to you that that ginormous stuffed animal would someday be the means of this particular mayhem, when HE’S home sick with the flu, YOU think you’re getting it, the baby’s unusually fretful, and the dogs are, well…
Oddly, though, I know it sounds like I’m bitching like I was always doing when I was alive, I’m not really. I don’t FEEL any of this stuff, I am an oddly (oddly for me, I mean) objective observer, which is a good thing, because I can’t talk, obviously, which is a real handicap, and then again, sometimes it’s kind of a relief. Too bad I didn’t figure that out before. Less truly is more.
Physically, the temp is a consistent, ambient 72 degrees. My “sleep” consists of my periodic “zoning outs” as I think of them. I don’t know how long they last, my sense is they go on for varied periods, probably anywhere from five minutes to five hours. Just down.
The rest of the time, I am observing the current tenants. The mother (I’ve learned that, in my current – perhaps eternal – state, I am not permitted to know the earthly names of the human creatures with whom I interact but don’t.
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