Football weekend shuffle

I'm so bummed. Back in the spring, the cute little boutique hotel right across from Clemson's stadium where I love to stay gave me a phone call to get first dibs on football weekends. So I got us signed up for the home game in mid-November. You know - cooler weather and senior/military appreciation weekend, so it would kinda be ideal.

But nooooo, the COVID had to come along and throw a big ol' monkey wrench into yet another pastime we enjoy. Sure enough, the revised football schedule released today is now showing my reserved weekend with no football game. I swear, y'all, I wanted to go all Karen up in here. But of course I didn't. The girls and dogs wouldn't have appreciated my "how dare they" kicking and pitching like a spoiled rotten housewife.

Now I'm consoling myself with the idea that I might not have even been allowed into the stadium for the game I originally wanted. We've heard talk of them just admitting students in order to keep spectators in the stands socially distanced. Lord only knows what the plague will be up to by November. Most folks will have gone about six months with little contact to the outside world. Eating their way through the food supplies they picked up curbside. Ding Dongs and Cool Ranch Doritos. Ignoring the exercise room in their house. Lounging in the AC binge watching Netflix. Oh wait a minute, I'm talking about me and probably not you. You're not aiming to be on that show "My 600-lb Life" like SOME folks who have eaten and not exercised their way through this pandemic.

So I'm gonna wait and see how this fall plays out. For now, I'm hanging onto my reservation and might just go up for a long weekend to visit our college sophomore. Recommit to exercising from now 'til then so I can enjoy some good old fashioned homecooking, South Carolina style.

Bring out ya dead

Over a month ago, we started hearing scratching sounds coming from the attic. Isn't that how most horror stories begin? And they never end well for the occupants of the house.

So anyhoo, we heard scratching that was shortly followed by squeaking. Mouse? Squirrels? Raccoons? Lord only knows since you can't access the old original house's attic. Unless you're a rodent or small woodlands creature, of course.

We first heard it in the ceiling. Next it moved to the column that holds up the ceiling over our large kitchen island. Then it was over in the wall behind the built-in banquette that bordered on the former 1953 one car garage that now leads to my exercise room from the 1990s master bedroom extension. Got that?

The husband had this bright idea to crawl up into the extension attic we can access in order to throw out some yummy critter poison pellets. I was told this with the surety that the poison would make our attic dwellers thirsty and they'd go out in search of water and expire elsewhere. Which of course was wishful thinking. They probably dragged themselves to our pool or fountain for a big drink, then struggled back to the attic to await death. So inconsiderate!

Sure enough, about a week later we started smelling the carcass. We still don't know what died up there. Or in the walls. But whatever it is, it emitted this gosh awful stench that had our main living areas looking like we were heavy into the occult and conducting a seance with all the burning candles. 

We have finally moved past the stinky part. In the past couple days, I've killed about twenty freakishly huge flies. So large I thought they were horseflies. Maybe the chorkie was in danger of being carried off by one of them. For reals. When I saw the first couple flies on Sunday, I thought to myself wow, where did these monster flies come from. It dawned on me the next day when I killed a dozen of them buzzing around in our windows that they must have come from the carcass in the attic. They were obviously very well fed. Which just grosses me out.

I figure I've killed about 30 flies now. So far I've only seen one today and it got away before I could wield my trusty fly swatter. I've now threatened the husband that I'll move up to the lake house unless he calls out the critter evictor folks to plug up all of the possible attic access points. I'll keep y'all posted if my address is changing!

Dog days of summer

Our older daughter, the CPA, finished her summer ethics class. Keep in mind, this was taken after she earned three college degrees. Poor thing had to take this one extra class because Texas requires two ethics classes and she only had one by the time she wrapped up her second masters since she thought she would be CPA-ing in Chicago. Illinois only requires one ethics class. So anyhoo, she took her final exam on Saturday and decided she wanted to see a bit of Texas she hasn't visited yet and take a getaway for a few days. That means I'm in charge of Dewey, her chorkie.

Nan's boy (Dewey) is often attention seeking. He's happy to be in his kennel, but when he's out, he wants in the thick of things.

He turned a year old less than a week ago and he still needs supervision. Plus lots of playtime. So I do my best. But I know he'll be glad to see his mom when she gets home tomorrow.