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Bob The Builder

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Aug-26-2010

I rather dislike it when the working class members of our happy home return in utterly foul moods.

The Boy helped me with the shopping today and, I know, it was only supposed to be Burritos ( notice that past tense ?), but we put together a fine group of *stuff* to put in a wrap. Great cheese, fine vegetables, and perfect – in fact lovely- beef.

In fact, the beef was so lovely that when I heard that dinner could be delayed for up to 2 hours, I said, oh, no way, Jose, and put my lovely beef into the fridge, my yellow peppers…you get the idea. This meat deserves to be seared and eaten, not to sit there until it turns into shoe leather.

When the first working class hero returned home ( have I mentioned that it is POURING rain ?), I was asked why I had not dumped that bouquet of flowers. Well, I did not say, yesterday, you told me not to. Wait for the lilies to bloom, you said, hey, I did not say, you dump them, now ! Then, after 15 minutes , I was asked ( it is still really pouring here..) why I had not mentioned that letter, tossed on the table, underneath all of the other mail. Well, I did not say, you seemed to have found it right quickly, did you not , tossed and all ?

So we are having this major rain problem. Dinner is take out- thank you, Boy. I am looking out of the kitchen door, into the yard, and there is this stream, this river, of water heading right. for. the .door. It is rising, it brings back memories of that flood we had once in the kitchen, at least 6 inches deep.

I am watching this. I have towels ( shoot me, I should have sand bags prepared, I know…) ready.

Now, we have two very large dogs, and one of them, The Pyr, has a water phobia. So the porch is flooding and Destin is going crazy : water ! I let them into the kitchen.

Two wet dogs, each the size of Godzilla, reek. I put on the massive exhaust things over the stove , and Destin prances around like a young colt ( and about the same size as one..) trying to dry off his feet. He really loathes water. He is terribly upset.

I just keep watching water levels on the porch.

I actually hoped to take a bath tonight. Suppose I could have just gone on the porch, if one thinks about it, but I was watching the water level, waiting until the rain calmed down enough so that I could feed the dogs ( Elvis outside, Destin inside and never the twain shall meet…).

The next working class hero returns, and I hear about the stench in the kitchen. While I explain my concerns about the water level on the porch, I am asked if I have gone up to the attic and checked the drain pipes ( whatever they are called ) between the two attics. No, I say, but both girls are upstairs, I guess that if they were flooding into the house, they would let me know. And, I said, that other gutter, on the front of the house is working…

And if one really thinks about it, what am I supposed to do if those gutters- way up high- are stuffed ? Put on mountain climbing gear and solve it ? Climb a 40 foot ladder ?

Do I look like stinkin’  Bob The Builder ? Yes I can ?

I did not get a bath and I doubt that I will get a dinner, and I don’t really care, for if you have to nag about it, it does not count.

But the dikes held here, and I am going to watch an episode of *The Sopranos* with The Boy.

Don’t say it. I know.

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