Red Alert

Since scuttling my children out the door, after a day of chaos, not completely knowing if they were going to go on their trip (long involved story), the dogs have been on RED ALERT. The dogs saw the bright orange luggage and the kids leaving and now they are huddled around me (Pug on lap, Boston scratching at my leg, and Heinz 57's paws wrapped around my foot). Six eyes are looking at me. Wookie is also intermittently barking with Stella at any noise. I guess they figure they have to protect the homestead. I am going to have to fill the Kong up with a few baked potatoes to keep them quiet. Then the phone calls. . .Holy Mother of Pearl. I think I am old enough to be left at home, but everyone seems concerned. Geez, it's not like I am going to have a wild party or hang nude from the chandeliers. I was hoping to have a little piece and quiet (as these times are few and far between), and aside from this blogging interlude, it has been anything but solitude. One person called and asked me if I wanted to try Mock Duck. . . a loving neighbour, but if it is "mock", I don't think I really want to go there. Thanks anyway, I know it was a caring gesture, but I figured it must come out of a can and it literally turned my stomach, I am not even going to google it. I am honestly afraid that she is going to show up with a spoonful of the concoction at my door. It happens frequently. . .spoonfuls of stuff at the door. Later: I feel like a kid on the third day of summer holidays. All that hope and fun that you thought you would have, had anticipated all year, you used all that gusto up in the first two days. On the third day you whine to your parents, "I'm bored". Well I can't say I am actually bored. It's more like, apathetic. I know there is stuff I have to do, but I am avoiding it. I know there is stuff I could do, but, I don't want to. Also there is my nightly roamer in my yard again tonight. Harmless enough and a great neighbour (I really couldn't ask for better, he is a sweet guy), but, he is drunk happy as a clam right now. He knows Adam is away, and thinks that I should be joining him for a beer by his campfire. Problem is, I cannot understand him when he is inebriated, then his eyes roll around all over the place like milky marbles in a popcorn maker, and then I just feel sad for the poor bloke. Obviously, my fence hasn't been put up yet. I will breath such a sigh of relief when I can walk into my yard without being descended upon by people. I feel like a piece of road kill just waiting for the pecking vultures at times. There is no privacy, I actually need some kind of force field. He has knocked on my door twice tonight, and waited for me each time when the dogs have been let out, he can hear my screen door from his place. No, I am not a paranoid delusional and yah, I should probably give my hinges a spray with Nutz.