When you get up in the morning, take a shower, and are too exhausted to put any underwear on, it's probably a good indication that you shouldn't go in to work. You should stay home and watch a Janice Dickenson Modeling Agency marathon, a few episodes of Rock of Love II, and maybe even some Celebrity Rehab. That ought to fix anybody up.
The good news, and maybe I shouldn't jinx myself, is that the Z-pack that the doctor gave me yesterday seems to be really doing the trick. I've only had to hit the inhaler like two times yesterday and not at all today, and my chest no longer feels like an elephant is sitting on it. I'm still a little hoarse but overall feel a lot better. Yay me!
Of course, I get bored being at home. I really didn't feel well enough to do something super productive like clean out my closet or straighten up the Man Cave. I spent a lot of time surfing the net and wondering why my timing had to be so lousy when Britney is actually behaving herself and TMZ isn't doing live streaming of her latest pantyless visit to Citgo for ciggies and Red Bull. Dammit.
The dog has been almost giddy with the prospect of spending the whole day outside. And I've discovered that a lot of the time, he is just out there barking his ass off at absolutely nothing. Almost like he's saying, "Hey, I might look like a useless sack of shit, but look at me - I'm defending you, protecting you, and you better appreciate me!" At one point, one of the contractors for the bathroom renovation showed up this afternoon and Cujo went totally nuts, following the guys up the walk with foam dripping from his mouth.
And speaking of foam dripping from someone's mouth, I'm starting to get a little perturbed with Cat Door over this whole bathroom thing. See, this is another reason why sometimes, just maybe, it's not good to hire a friend to do work for you.
He's been sick. Really sick. He didn't work at all last week except an hour here and there before crawling home to sleep. So he's behind and I think starting to be a tad forgetful about things. Like last week he told me he had to have a deposit to get the tile ordered and pay for a few things. Fine, so I finally caught Joey in a good mood and made him write the check for it. Cat Door never came by to pick up the check because he was sick...then today he was supposed to meet the glass guy here at 4 and didn't show up. So I call and he's at the airport picking up The Mrs. who ended up coming home from her business trip a day later than planned. Okay, that's fine, but when I mention that we have the check ready for him he's like oh, what check?
See, that worries me. And now I'm having a teensy little panic attack. They are supposed to start demolition next Wednesday when we leave for Vegas, and now I'm wondering exactly how much he's going to be able to get done while we're gone - not to mention if he's going to get much done when he hasn't even ordered the damn tile yet. So this is where the hard part comes in...being a hardass. I will have to jerk a knot in his head and then he will get pissy and defensive. This is not the part that I enjoy. However, I don't want my bathroom torn up for the next two months while he gets his shit together. A few weeks is OK, a few months is not.
I love Cat Door. Seriously, the man is one of the best friends that I have ever had, and he's on my short list of people that I could call if I got in a jam. But he drives me crazy too. He has such severe ADD that at times I think he has a hard time distinguishing fact from fiction and keeping things sorted out. There are times when he will tell me one thing, then the next day it's completely opposite and he acts like I'm the crazy one. (Well, maybe I am, but that's not really the point I'm driving at here.) It's kind of maddening at times. And we bicker like brother and sister at times, leaving our spouses shrugging their shoulders and telling each other that we probably will end up killing each other before it's all said and done. It's like he told me the other day, "You are my best friend, but it's definitely a love/hate thing we have going on here." I couldn't have said it better myself.
So while part of me knows that we're going to have to have the unpleasant contractor/customer talk this week before we leave, the other part of me knows that when it all comes down to it he will do a great job and I will be happy. I hope. I figure if I can get a great bathroom done, not kill Cat Door, and not end up divorced from Joey, it will be a huge success.
Monkey Man is beckoning from the couch so I guess I need to jet and go pay some attention to him. He's pretty much been hanging in the Man Cave for the past two days so I guess the least I can do is let him wallow on me for a while.