Last night Greg and I lay in bed for a bit discussing this blogging project of mine, and how I would go about posting something worthwhile (notice I didn’t say worth reading) every day in November. We talked a bit about various themes which might make coming up with content easier, but in the end I decided that my first post would be about figuring out what my goals were for this project, and then hopefully that would help give me some direction.
Our DAMN DOG trumped that idea. Our DAMN DOG and the brutal night we just had. Either Langley doesn’t have a ban on firecrackers or Langleyites just don’t follow the rules as well as Victorians. For those of you who don’t know, our DAMN DOG hates firecrackers. His reaction is to get as close to you as possible as he trembles and pants in fear.
The firecrackers started up before we went to bed, so we decided to take Yoshi into our room with us. We would have had to deal with him trying his best to get to us anyway — scratching down doors, pushing down baby gates, scrambling over furniture — so this seemed like the best option.
He was okay for a bit, but the noise started to get worse and he alternated between Greg’s side of the bed (which is less than a foot away from the wall) and mine (which is by the closet door that would bang loudly when he tried to turn around) and generally was a huge pain-in-the-ass. He’d press his wet nose against us, try to climb on the bed, and pant. We both tried lying on the floor with him, but that didn’t work.
I could go on and on about that DAMN DOG and the hours of sleeplessness he just caused us, but that’d be a really long post. Suffice it to say that at 2:30 AM the firecrackers were still going off.
And Amy? She was up every two hours last night. The icing on the cake.