Holiday, Smoliday

Whew! Last week. What a whirl wind. I took some holiday time, even though I did not go to any exotic locale. Since it was holiday time, I banished myself from the computer, so as to not be tempted in any, shape, or form to engage in work related activities. This past four days was all about complete and total disconnect from all things work. I was successful at that.

Of course, the main object of focus was to finish the bathroom. By finish, I mean specifically tile. Tile the shower and tile the floor. And over my mini-break, guess how much got accomplished? 33%. Yes, that does not read 100%. Because. You. See. I. Am. Missing. Three. Yes. Three. Boxes. Of. TILE!

I never under buy. Never. Especially if something is on clearance. Never. I measure and do my calculations several times. I distinctly remember having a loaded cart of tile at Home Depot many years ago. But yet, I am missing 88 tiles. How could so many tiles magically disappear? I have pondered that only coming to one clear conclusion. The Leech. As vindictive as he was moving out, the Leech took the tile. I know it. Now to pray the tile men find the identical tile that they were so sure of. My anger has ceased substantially since Friday. Damn you, Leech!

To top off the grand tiling adventure, my parents’ bionic pup on death’s door became seriously ill. Read: the poor dog was dying. He was 122 in dog years. Poor guy, it was time for him to go. Finally, my mother realized it was time for him to go too. So near the end of the business day, the three of us piled in the car with poor poochie and headed to the animal hospital. Dad and I went back with poochie. It was sad because we’d had him for so long. I clearly remember the day we got him. We got him primarily due to me, followed closely by my father. It was sad but yet relieving because as far as I was concerned poor thing suffered much longer than he needed to but my mom would not let him go. I was surprised by how my stoic father lost it once we were behind the closed doors – just me, him, and the pooch. He was a good little poochie who loved us dearly as we did him.