So I come home yesterday from work, drag myself up the stairs, working hard to ignore the chewed up, unidentified object, strewn throughout the hallway, while simultaneously giving attention to the 175 collective pounds of demanding, tail wagging beasts, flanking me. I put my purse down on the table, willing my body to take the final step to succumb to the chair of death (once I sit there, I do nothing else – hence forth, Husband has named it the chair of death). Alas, my destiny is not to be.
The dogs have abandoned me, and have become fascinated with the heating vent in the bedroom. Regrettably, the heating vent is located behind a table, on which a lamp, several magazines, and a small plant sit. Evidently, the law of physics states, that it is not possible for 2 fairly large dogs, and a table to occupy the same space. The lamp tips over, displacing the magazines, which slip to the floor, one heat vent studying, fanatical dog, steps on them, losing his footing, bumping into the table, which starts to tilt, thus causing the plant to fall to the floor. I run to the table, while yelling at the dogs, still digging at the heating vent cover, like they are trying to unearth the golden bone. I put one foot on the vent, side stepping the magazines, while putting the other foot in front of the lamp, on the floor, in an effort to spare the lampshade from certain death. (Picture a very unfortunate game of twister.) While keeping my feet firmly planted, I pick up the magazines, lamp, plant, and move the table back a bit, while glaring at the dogs, who are invading my space in a big way.
I move my foot off the vent, and I hear it. The dreaded sound, anyone living in an old house, knows all too well. The sound of something, not human, in a location, where nothing live should ever be. I yell Husbands name, in the way that lets him know he is in trouble. Hey - it clearly says in the rule book, that any time something none human enters, any area of the home, it is the husbands fault.
Husband looks in the room, and I say, while standing on top of the heating vent, with the 2 dogs standing on top of me, “there is something in the heat duct”. Husband, in true husband like fashion, in a manner that infers that I frequently make up stories about creatures in heat ducts, says “no there isn’t”. I say, becoming even more annoyed, as I beat the dogs back off of my feet, “yes, there is and I think it’s a bird.” Husband, who has surveyed the situation from the doorway, 15 feet away and decided I am clearly delusional, says in his best you’re an idiot voice, “there is no way there is a bird in the heat duct.” All I wanted was the chair of death, and had no interest in playing the Mother Nature game today, “FINE, it’s a *#$^&* rat then”, and I step off the vent and walk away, allowing the dogs to once again, start their obsessive digging and foraging behavior on the helpless heat vent cover.
Husband struts over to the heat vent, and the noise stops. The dogs tear into the next room over and start digging, raping & pillaging the heat vent there. In a professionally trained, don’t try this at home move, husband taps on the heat vent cover, to assess the situation. The noise stops, as the dogs’ race back into the bedroom and starting attacking that vent again. Husband gets a flashlight, and, along with 2 canine sidekicks glued to his side, peer into the heat vent. “Oh it’s bird”. And this, my fellow blog readers, is a perfect example of why marriages of 26 years end in divorce or dismemberment.
We shut the bathroom door, opened a window, took the heat vent cover off, and the giant black bird flew away to freedom. The house is on the market, and we have an open house this Saturday and Sunday, so let’s just keep this bird incident between us.
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