That dog ran away again. Actually not even just once. He’s run away four more times. Thankfully these escapes happened on his new mama’s watch so all we could really do was chat about it with her, because she’s 2 hours away. He has learned to expertly scale a 6 foot fence. SIX FEET! Looks like I’ll need to update that fence question on our adoption application asking how high it is because, who cares now that we clearly have gazelles in the rescue.
The texts from the new mama are great.
“He ran away last night but came back this morning.”
“He jumped the fence right in front of me, and went to my neighbor’s house and slept on their daughter’s bed.”
“He went out for a beer and a smoke and came back before midnight.”
Okay – maybe not that last text, but it’s pretty much what’s happening. It’s like having Eliot Spitzer for your household pet. You just can’t trust him to stay put.
We’re in Hershey Park. I’m not sure why I consider these vacations a “vacation” because by the time the car is packed, I’m seriously considering drinking a bottle of wine for the two hour drive. I wisely and legally chose water but I was burned out by the time we arrived, and I expressed as much.
Real Estate Dad: “What’s so stressful about it?”
Me: “Because I do all the packing and loading of the car while you sit on the phone or your computer.”
I let him drive the kid-less car and I took the dogs and kids with me, so he could finish up his deal that was closing the next morning. He says after we arrive in Hershey, “You know, all that drama and phone calls this morning before we left and then I got in the car and nothing. It was a peaceful 2 hour drive.”
I said, “Yeah, and it magically started up again while the family pack-mule unloaded the kids, dogs and luggage while you sat in the parking lot on your phone.”
Grrrr. My point was made.
“Evil Woman” has played several times since we’ve been here, in very public places. At the restaurant where we first ate dinner, in Hershey Park today piped over the loudspeakers. I get it, I get it. It’s my weekend theme song.
Then I ended up getting the customary vacation-phone-call because clients wandered into a house and wanted to write an offer. It always happens, like clockwork. Ask any Real Estate Agent. Need more sales? Go on vacation. It’s the universe’s way of letting you know that there is no such thing as self-employed. We all answer to someone.
But, I was THRILLED! It was so nice to be like, “You take the kids to the pool while I write this contract.” Real Estate Dad goes off with the littles to the pool and I managed to take what should have been a 20 minute experience and stretch it into an hour so I could have some alone time. Then I decided I wanted to go see the kids swim. So off to the pool I went.
There’s Real Estate Dad, smiling proudly as the littles are doing their best not to drown, because this is the state of the pool when I enter.
It was pretty crazy in there and I was about to yank Chubs out because she could barely stay afloat. Watch that green football that some asshole is whaling at a girl in the pool. Those two switch places and he catches as well as a quadriplegic. So she whales it at him and it skims Chub’s hair and smashes on the side of the pool. Chubs gets out of dodge and I look at Real Estate Dad and say, “That football missed her head by less than an inch.”
Real Estate Dad is the one who stopped for coffee when Chubs was pushing through my cervix. He’s phased by absolutely nothing. Like, when it comes to a quick and appropriate response, I wouldn’t rely on him for it. If I were to ever get pregnant again I would totally call a taxi before asking him for a ride to Labor and Delivery. Okay, back to the pool.
He says, “But it didn’t hit her.” And the two assholes continue throwing the ball, wayyy too hard for my approval. So, I think we all know what happened next.
Yes, I leapt from my chair and yelled at that girl to stop throwing the ball. She says, “What?” I said, “STOP THROWING THE BALL! There are little kids there you almost hit!” She says okay and jumps in the pool. But, you saw the video. Do you think her parents were there, with their coolers, drinking by the pool and ignoring their little jerky offspring? Yep. They were.
DCRealEstateMama don’t play that shit. Happy Effing Summer everyone! I’ll be THAT mom, at the pool.