New home sweet home

We moved. Into a TWO BEDROOM apartment. While complaints about our previous place pepper this entire blog, you can see them most clearly here, here, here, and here.

The new place rocks for many reasons including the following: a living room + huge bedroom + huge walk in closet + wide hallway + EXTRA bedroom + huge well remodeled kitchen + non coin operated laundry right out of my back door + neighborhood with great parking. There is, however, a dog size hole in the fence of our side yard. Our dog walker had kept the pooch Friday night and most of Saturday. She brought him home while we were enjoying our traditional celebratory meal of pizza and champagne. After moving on Saturday, we spent a long time Sunday cleaning the new place. When we finished, I dropped the husband off at the new house and headed to the grocery store. He called sounding sort of accusatory.

"Do you remember leaving the back door wide open?"

"No, actually, I thought I shut it. Did I leave it open? And if so... Oh shit! Where's The DOG???"

"He was here, lying on the couch. But, the back door was wide open (and, his tone said, he could have run away and been hit and killed by a speeding Range Rover)."

This is what my father always called female head up ass syndrome. And that, he would say proudly, is not the same as being on the rag.