I worked most of yesterday, Labour day, and it was a welcome refuge from the chaotic hell that was my home this weekend.
Leaving the office Friday night I was eagerly anticipating my first “down” weekend all summer — no weddings, parties, onerous obligations, NOTHING that I was required to do or attend. Sheer bliss. Yeah, whatever.
Got home Friday to find a note from my sister: Sorry, toilet plugged. SHIT (literally). That fixed I walked the mutts, 3 of them, fed them and then settled on the couch with a glass of wine and the remote control.
Paula was at Pearl Jam with a freind and they were both to stay chez moi, so I camped out on the couch. Woke up at 3:30 and no one was home yet. At 4:45, however, Paula arrived home, escorted by her bf, (who promptly left) and she then spent the next 3 hours of so dashing to the loo. it seems there was an abundance of dope being smoked at the concert, not actually by my sister, but in her general area, rendering her very, very ill. [weird Vancouver aside: if you dare light a cigarette, an angry mob descends upon you like you are the devil himself. but want to spark a fatty? go for it!!!] Thank goodness I fixed the first toilet problem ….
Saturday was pretty uneventful — Paula spent most of it, save for running the 12 k to the West End to fetch her car (have I mentioned here yet that she is slightly mental??) on my couch napping with the puggle, a girlfriend came over and we all watched movies — suprisingly I can highly recomemnd “The Upside of Anger”. Kevin Costner didn’t suck (!!) and the relationship between the mum (Joan Allen) and her 4 daughters was fabulous.
Then came Sunday.
My big plan was to meet the girls at 11:30 for brunch. That’s it. Paula left earlier than me to meet up with the bf and his brother and gf so I was left to, again, walk to mutts. This should have been a no-brainer, and it was, until Trudy, Paula’s dog, picked up the scent of bacon. I spent the next 1 1/2 hours searching for her in the GD pouring rain. She turned up about 6 blocks from my house.
Way behind schedule, I eventually made it to brunch and returned home
1 1/2 hours in the pouring rain looking for her yesterday morning (precious had taken off from the canyon, up the embankment, across Cap Road in search of bacon) and another 45 yesterday evening spent roaming the BP’s.
then Decker stole a chicken right out of Maggie’s dish (bigger than him and he does not eat raw) and proceeded to eat it (and loved it and was none the worse for wear)
and Maggie rolled in a vast amount of bear shit
and Paula plugged my toilet Friday afternoon, which meant I had to “fix” it when I got home that night, and it was not pretty, then she arrived home at 4:30 a.m. from the Pearl Jam concert and spent the next couple of hours hurling in my bathroom (too much dope at the concert, though she was not smoking any)
my planless, eventfulless, peaceful “all about me” weekend was most definitely OFF