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January 26, 2007

Friday Shuffle - The Murphy Needs to Move Edition

We are officially in full-blown real estate mode. I dropped Clara Jane with my parents today, where she'll remain until Wednesday while we blow through our house, getting it spiffied up for the hoards of interested buyers who'll start tramping through it on Wednesday. Tomorrow, we're headed to Prettytown (A thinly-veiled pseudonym? Perhaps. I mainly use it because it does provide a smidge of anonymity to the 90% of my readers who reside outside the St. Louis area, and to give it an illusion of sarcastic dreaminess.) to view more houses. While I haven't given up on that house I love, we're being realistic. Despite being approved for way more than enough mortgage to pay for that house, it's not quite enough to buy a house that's not actually for sale anymore.

So, the agenda during Clara Jane's absence looks like this:
1. Clean
2. Pack
3. Clean under the stuff that's been packed.
4. Paint the bathroom to give the illusion of structural integrity.
5. Sleep.
6. Eat Chinese food out of the carry-out box while sitting on the couch with my spouse, possibly while watching "Beavis & Butthead" DVDs. I'm not sure how this is crucial to moving, but it is. Trust me.
7. Finishing four major mostly-finished craft projects and getting them sent to their respective new owners before the items accidentally get packed in a pre-move, Cornholio-style frenzy.
8. Bury St. Joe already.
9. Tranquilize Murphy.

You remember what happened to my stupid little dog Murphy a few weeks ago, when she suddenly became terrified of her best friend, and just as suddenly got over it? Yeah, well, she has an all new neighbor-dog-related traumatic experience to overcome, and I'm not sure she can do it as long as we're residing in this house.

You might also recall the unholy union between one neighbor's miniature weiner dog and another neighbor's beagle-sheltie two months ago. Well, the products of that union - four long little miniature daucsheltles - were born a week ago today. One of them was born under my back steps, which I think officially makes us rednecks despite the many years of higher education B. and I have completed.

Yesterday morning, I caught the new mother running down our street. I understand. There were plenty of times during my first weeks of motherhood when I wished to run away from home, too. Had I been cleared to drive and not eaten up with staph infection, I probably would have. I ran her back home before she lactated all over my for sale sign and lowered my property value even more than she already has.

This morning, I threw my dogs outside while getting Clara Jane ready for her visit. The phone rang, and I was greeted with the always-lovely sound of my neighbor's phone greeting. Every time she calls, she always sounds surprised to find another person on the other end of the phone. "helLOOOOOOOOOO?" she bellows. It's delightful. Really. Especially first thing in the morning.

"I just wanted to tell you that my dog got ahold of Murphy. I don't know if she's hurt or not. She sounded like she was hurt bad," my neighbor told me after her shock at being on the telephone abated.

As for Murphy sounding like she's injured, she always sounds like she's suffering greatly. This is what she sounds like when she's content, relaxing in the red chair and stinking it up in a manner that reduces our property value by $10 every time she relaxes in it. I can only imagine what it sounded like this morning, when she walked over our felled fence (must add that to the list of things to fix this weekend), went to the neighbors' back porch, and was brutally attacked by a postpartem minature dachshund.

That's right. My 40-pound ill-bred hound was taken down by 10 pounds of lactating weiner dog. From what my neighbor described, the weiner dog went for Murphy's ears and it all went downhill from there.

Murphy's fine, physically. Mentally, not so much. Not that she woke up in good mental shape this morning, but having her ass kicked by a recently pregnant dog 1/4 of her size has left her shamed, which just makes the houndstink in my house that much worse. It's time to move. Murphy can't handle anymore shaming. Or shuffling.

Posted by Robin at January 26, 2007 05:51 PM

Comments

Posted by: Exena at January 26, 2007 10:04 PM

Posted by: pkb at January 27, 2007 06:59 AM

Posted by: Cassie at January 27, 2007 09:37 AM

Posted by: Dixie at January 27, 2007 02:20 PM