First it was the pool motor. Jamie and I have a long standing joke (if you can count the two summers we've been in Oklahoma as "long standing") with that pool. I keep telling him that I'm going to get a sign to place above the pool equipment that reads, "How hard could it be?" Because THAT is the sentiment that we run across EVERY TIME we do something with that pool. I keep referring to it as "that pool". We really do love "that pool". Unless we are having to do something to FIX "that pool". Even the simplest of tasks turn into something major when we are dealing with it. But I digress. Yes, a new motor. And as soon as got that thing hooked up, bubbles started coming out of the jets where bubbles should not BE. We are ignoring the bubbles. Pretending that they are a nice jet feature to our pool. We will be blind to them for at least another two weeks. First we have to get through the shower remodel.
The shower remodel?? Why, YES. "Shower remodel" has such a nice ring to it. Like something you would choose to do. You know, add some lovely spa features...make it really nice...that sort of thing. Or, it could just be one tiny little tile that has fallen off. Not even a full tile, just a half of one, right where the wall meets the floor. No biggie? But, when we called to get an estimate on just putting that tiny tile back in, the tile guy informed us we would have to gut the whole thing and start over. Surely he was kidding? Except that three other tile guys told us the same thing. So either they are in some sort of conspiracy to send Jamie that much closer to a heart attack, or they are actually telling the truth. Rats. The work on that began last week. But not before we replaced the garage door.
Oh...riiiiiight. The garage door incident. Otherwise known as, "The Day Malinda Can No Longer Say 'I Told You So' When Jamie Messes Up". Not that I do that. Much. So, I was headed to pick Jay up from school. It was a lovely day, full of sunshine, and we decided to walk. I got Jane loaded into the stroller, Annie on her bike, and then used the keypad to shut the garage door. As it was coming down, I noticed that the car was not pulled all the way into the garage. "WAAAAAAAIIIIIIITTTTTT" I cried in slow motion. But the garage door? It is not voice activated. And as I discovered about four seconds later, it also does not retract. It dug into my car, sending me into a panicked sort of chicken dance steppy thing in the driveway as I chanted, "No! No! No! Daddy is going to kill me!!!" Then, mercifully, the garage door finally stopped. I assumed it had come off its track since it wouldn't move. When Jamie got home (and he DIDN'T kill me, or even make me squirm for that matter-I was sure I'd be on double, secret probation.) he said he thought he could fix it over the weekend. The weekend came and when he actually looked at it, he realized that door was in bad shape. All the hardware had popped off since the force of the NON-RETRACTING door NOT RETRACTING as it continued to try to close on my car (thus NOT RETRACTING) had really messed things up. Stupid non-retracting door. So we called a garage door guy. I'll give you one guess about what HE said. Guess what though....my new door? IT retracts.
So. The motor. The shower. The garage door. All in the last three weeks. Oh...and I forgot to mention the oven we replaced a few months ago since it caught fire. And that fire extinguisher you have in your kitchen? You should not used that to put out an oven fire. It will only mean that you have to replace your oven. Yeah...didn't know that.
It happens though. Part of home ownership...blah blah blah. Then we came home from soccer games today, opened up the back door, and Darla was standing there on three legs. To be clear here, she HAS a fourth leg, she just wouldn't put any weight on it. She looked terrible. We checked her out, tried to figure out what could have possibly happened to her. The best I can come up with is a UPI. You know, "Unidentified Potty Injury". All I know is DARLA'S not telling. The three legged walking continued. She wouldn't put any weight on that leg at all. I was just sure it was broken. So, Jamie headed off to the vet with Darla in tow. I was WORRIED about her. This dog, who drives me crazy half the day. She goes through the bathroom trash cans incessantly, barks while Jane is sleeping, wants to play endless games of fetch while I am trying to work, hounds all visitors who come to our door . But she follows me around whenever we are home, she looks at me as if I hung the moon. She is my walking partner, my cooking partner, and she loves my children with a devotion that I would have NEVER imagined could come from a dog. She's my friend and I love that dumb dog. A really, really lot. And three hundred dollars later, we find out she has a bad sprain. This time? Totally worth it.