On Wednesday, we leave for Las Vegas. To say that I'm in a bit of a panic about it would be a mild understatement.
First of all, there's The Babysitter. We are using our regular babysitter - this will be the longest she has ever stayed at our house though. And of course, she came last night so we could do a business dinner and admitted to us that she hasn't been feeling very well. And today when I called to check and see if she is going to be able to cover a few hours for us tomorrow (damn school and preschool are closed) she said that she couldn't - her sister was supposed to babysit for one of the families that she normally sits for, and Sis has the flu. Great. So now I'm all worried about if Heather is going to be well enough to watch Monkey Man for six days. I mean, I guess we could make it work - he will be at school all day and we could probably enlist a few friends to help us out, but it would be a disaster.
Then, there is The Bathroom Renovation. Cat Door is scheduled to start on Wednesday with demolishing our corner Jacuzzi tub, and by the time we get back Monday we should at least have the new plumbing in and some sheetrock up on the walls. He came by on Saturday to answer a huge list of questions that I have and I am feeling much better about leaving the work in his hands while we're gone. I mean, what choice do I really have? It's probably much smarter for me to NOT be here while all this is going on because all I will do is stress. And then he and I fight. So at least this way, I can be drunk when I call from Vegas and then everything will seem like it's going smoothly, even if the pipes burst and flood my lovely Man Cave in the basement. I probably should check on Cat Door's insurance, huh?
Add to this The Sickness. Yes, people, I cannot shake whatever the hell this is that has taken over my body. I have discovered this weekend that if I am outside after, say, 4 PM that my chest starts to tighten up and I can't stop coughing. I broke the inhaler back out again today and invested in a little Mucinex to try and loosen this stuff up. It's like pretty much my throat and upper chest are still froggy and Friday night I was so exhausted that I fell asleep around 8 PM and didn't wake up until 7 AM on Saturday. Oops. I am so sick and tired of being sick and tired. I haven't been able to see my great-niece Finley in weeks, which breaks my heart because she is getting soooo big and I am missing it all! However, I think everyone understands that they are much better off without me spreading the love, I mean germs.
Then there is the matter of packing, going to the grocery store, making sure the laundry is caught up, leaving medical authorizations, instructions, lists of medication, etc. It's kind of overwhelming. It will all be fine, it always is, and the good thing is that we don't actually leave for the airport until like 9 AM on Wednesday which is an eternity away.
I guess, though, I should be more worried about all the stress that is going to be incurred on the dog while we're gone. He hates the babysitter and Cat Door is just barely making the cut as someone Rufus doesn't want to eat. On Saturday I asked Cat Door if he would be willing to take the dog and put him in the Man Cave or outside when he's there working. This will require, of course, some form of bribe in either Chicken Jerky or MarroBone form, so I showed Cat Door where the treats were and asked him to give Rufus one.
So this big ol' guy gets down on all fours and tries to give Rufus a treat. The dog wants no part of taking it from his hand, but when Cat Door put the treat on the floor the dog greedily snatched it up and pranced into the living room where he started doing the "Chase Me" game. His favorite thing to do is to get a treat...take it about 10 feet away and then toss it around while he waits for you to come chase him with the treat. Then we have to chase him a few times and then he happily eats the treat.
"He's waiting for you to chase him," I told Cat Door. "You're serious?" he asked. "Um, yes, you need to chase him around the couch a few times so he feels loved. He loves being chased like that."
At this point, Cat Door hopped up and started to chase the dog around the living room. But instead of getting that normal look of rapture on his face as he triumphantly keeps the human from getting the treat, the only look on Rufus' face was OH SHIT THIS BIG CRAZY GUY IS TRYING TO STEAL MY TREAT. STEAL. MY. TREAT. OH. SHIT.
Later on, I found the treat, still uneaten and laying on the kitchen floor. So we might have to rethink this whole chasing thing, because obviously what works for us doesn't work for Cat Door. I guess the good thing is that "Dog Wrangling" is not worthy of a change order, but will probably require a huge vat of homemade pimiento cheese for Cat Door when we return.