Weirdness, Day 3

The floor guys are still here doing their thing.

They are finished with the staining and scoring and are going to be working on sealing today. Tomorrow they paint the walls, so I hope we can agree on paint colors before then.


Floors in progress

Yesterday after dialysis I was planning on staying holed up in the bedroom with Jeff the Cat until around 1:30 when they started scoring the cement. I don't know if you've ever smelled cement dust, but it's nauseatingly suffocating.

I had to flee.

After opening a window for Jeff the Cat and wishing him the best of luck, I headed off to my parents new house in San Marcos where they were preparing for today's arrival of furniture and boxes. And so begins what is sure to be a tradition of pop-ins. Here's how it goes:

Me calling mom, IN the car on the way to their house:
"What are you all up to?"

Mom: "Not much"

Me: "Are you at home?"

Mom: "Yes"

Me: "I'm coming over."

Later that afternoon...

Me: "So.....what are you doing for dinner?"

Mom: "I'm making it"

Me: "Is there enough for me?"


Classy. But thanks, Mom and Dad, for providing me refuge from the fumes and feeding me fresh veggies. What are we having tonight?

Trapped

The floor guys are not messing around.

They were scheduled to start this morning between 8 and 8:30, so I wandered off to Starbucks to gather some pastries and coffee for Ryan and myself. The clock on my car dash read "8:01" as I rounded the corner of Campfield Parkway (our street) and not only was the Mystic Illusions van parked out front, but every inch of our front room carpet was already stacked on the porch.

So now we are prisoners of the second floor along side Jeff the Cat, who is loving this. He never gets his 'people' to himself without some big smelly dogs shoving him out of the way. Now he has two warm people with two warm laptops camped out on his bed. I have the feeling he's going to be spending much of his time inverted between the two of us today.

Mel and Lucy are hanging out at cousin Cassidy's today. Apparently, in true Steans dogs style, they refused to go out this morning, so we'll have to make a mid-day voyage over to Hop-a-Long Lounge to see what their problem is.

In other news, my parents are making their final journey to their home in San Marcos today. Have a safe trip, Mom and Dad, Sam and Pippin. We'll see you when you get here.

Disappointment, thy name is Cubs

The Chicago Cubs. It's been 63 years since they went to the World Series and 100 years exactly since they won. They've made a good run of it in recent years, though usually by looking promising in the first half of the season and flaming out like Snoopy's WWI Sopwith Camel as they neared the playoffs. The few times they have made it into the playoffs things didn't go so well.


I think this poor schmo is now under federal protection

My heart goes out to my dad this morning. He was born and raised in northern Chicago and I don't know if the man has missed listening to or watching a Cubs game in his life. (That's a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the idea). Every year the beginning of the season brings a new wave of optimism for him, even though he's perfectly aware of the likelihood of self destruction. This year his hope was high, and with good reason. They started strong and finished strong, with the best record in the National League. Their 100 years of shame was finally behind them.

And then they started the playoffs.

Three games. Three games was all it took to crush the hopes of loyal Cubs fans everywhere.

Sorry, Dad. How 'bout them Cowboys?