The Summer of Unrelenting Standards

First the dog; then, the wife.

Poor Freckles Warrior Princess ate something disgusting on Sunday and has been puking, peeing and pooping ever since.  How do I know she ate something disgusting? Because the first time she threw up there was some unidentified stringy objects included in the projectile vomit.  I also saw her eating something on the lawn and remember screaming at her to stop it, but since she never eats anything weird, I didn't do anything but yell.  Well, I guess I should have taken a closer look at what tasty tidbits she found to snarf down, 'cuz now I have no idea why she is sick. Suffice it to say, she has been miserable ever since--I swear she even screamed Sunday evening when the wife and I had thought about going out for dinner.  We put up the gate, started out the door....and, then there was this blood-curdling dog scream.  We stayed home and watched her spew bodily fluids instead of going on a date.

That's how we roll in the Addiverse.

Freckles kept me up all Sunday and Monday night.  I stayed with her on the couch, trying to get her to sleep.  Instead, she paced around the room and demanded to go out every 15-30 minutes.  This wouldn't have been a big deal except we literally have to go outside with her, as we don't have a fence and our usual system of letting the dogs out on a long, retractable leash doesn't work because we replanted grass seed (read: the front area is a ball of mud).  Even this wouldn't be a big deal except the weather has been horrific--nothing like standing outside in your pajamas in 30-something degree pouring down rain.  It's quite the ritual: dog paces, dog barks, dog dances.  I swear, put on shoes, put on robe, put leash on dog, go outside stand in rain.  Watch dog pee, watch dog run around back and forth, watch dog squirt out some diarrhea.  Wait 15 to 30 minutes, repeat.

We took her to the vet today, as she had stopped drinking water.  I didn't care that she wouldn't eat anything except peanut butter (there is something wrong when your dog spits up peanut butter flavored bile) or that she continued to pee and poop and puke. I only got really concerns when she stopped drinking water, as I know that's a bad sign.  So, we get to the vet this afternoon, get an x-ray and an exam, talk about my concerns she isn't drinking water....

.......and, then watch her drink an entire bowl of water.  Figures.  I told the vet she cured Freckles without doing anything.

Well, besides giving us a bill.

It will be hard to tell if the shot the vet gave her will help, as I whacked her in the head with the car door when she walked by.  I mean I cracked her noggin.  Sigh.  Now she has a concussion to go with her gastro-intestinal issues.

As for the wife, she is pretty miserable, too--although she is not peeing, pooping and puking on the rugs.  (Not that I know of, anyways.)  This back injury is driving her bonkers--and, I'm not talking about the physical pain.  I'm talking about the pain caused by an inability to maintain perfectionism in the Addiverse. Her frustration is oozing out of her pores.  Perfectionists do not like others to do what they can do better.  Of course she can do better--she's a perfectionist!  I am going to work on her, saying things like, "progress, not perfection" and "good enough is good enough."  

How long do you think it will take before she slaps me silly?

I mowed the lawn on Sunday.  No, it didn't need it and yes, it snowed the next day.  The wife insisted the grass needed to be mowed and since she and her injured back can't mow it, I volunteered.  It was quite interesting, as I couldn't tell where I had already mowed--if not for the mower wheel lines, I wouldn't have had a clue.  The lawn literally looked the same after I mowed as it did before I mowed. 
 
Welcome to "My Summer of Unrelenting Standards Hell," where I will be held to the unrelenting standards of the wife's obsessive compulsive, perfectionistic ways.  Her idea of an appropriately-cared for lawn is Augusta National right before the Masters tournament.  My idea of an appropriately-cared for lawn is if I can still see the dogs, it's good enough.

I've already told her she'll need to lower the bar a few notches.  It's going to be a long summer.

Here's what I will tell the wife:
"The lawn is not going to be perfect.
The dog is going to puke on the carpet.
The cars will not be shiny clean and waxed on a weekly basis.
The laundry will be slower.
The floors will be a wee bit dirtier.
I will do the best I can but it will be nothing in comparison to your unrelenting standards."

I will then run quickly and hide....

.....if there is one thing I can still do better than her, it is that I can outrun her.
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