I slept downstairs on the couch last night. Now before you all start making assumptions about the state of my marriage, I’d like to make it clear that I wasn’t banished I went of my own volition. It’s all because Fondy has decided to realize a dream. No, she’s not skydiving or learning to play the cello. She’s having the upstairs carpet replaced with hardwood flooring. As a result, HER dream has turned into MY nightmare as I spent most of last night dismantling bed frames and lugging furniture, emptying the contents of three guest rooms and squeezing them into the master bedroom. With all of the precariously perched boxes and teetering headboards cluttering the place, Fondy felt it prudent to sequester the dogs in the kitchen. For their own safety. Of course, try explaining that to the dogs. Believe me, I tried. Bubba almost seemed to understand, cocking his head right, then left in an obvious attempt to figure me out. But, in the end, he proved just as clueless as Jelly, Maximus, and Lulu who, at a little after midnight, launched into a mournful group howl that startled me out of a deep sleep. Whoever said dogs have short-term memories clearly hasn’t met my pack. I lay in bed, listening to their mournful wails, thinking about what they were thinking: “How come we’re not allowed upstairs with them? Did we do something wrong? WTF?!”. Finally, unable to bear it, I grabbed my blanket and both by pillows, and headed downstairs. The pooches were thrilled to see me and, naturally, piled on the second I settled in, making the narrow confines of the downstairs couch all that more uncomfortable.
I woke up at the crack of dawn (no blackout curtains for me), took the dogs out, fed them, then headed upstairs. By the time I’d showered and shaved, Fondy was awake. “How did you sleep?”she asked.
“My back is killing me,”I offered by way of a response. But thankfully, it was a one-time sacrifice. By tonight, the work would be completed, the contents of the guest rooms moved back, and the dogs would once again be permitted free reign of the house.
Or so I thought. As it turns out, Fondy’s prediction of a 3-day project was a tad optimistic. It’ll be more of a 5-day project. Oh, and since they won’t work on weekends, let’s say 7. I’ll be sleeping in my own bed by Tuesday at the latest.
Unless it is later.
Well, I can honestly say I have never looked forward to a Friday the 13th like I did this one. It was our last day of shooting before the month-long hiatus- still, the mood was fairly subdued on our side of the production offices. I was working on my Remnants rewrite. Carl and Alan were working on their outlines. Martin left yesterday to go promote the premiere of his movie, Young People Fucking. If it‘s playing at a theater near you, do go check it out and help promote the needy Marty G. Brad and Rob were in today and we discussed Brad’s trip to Monte Carlo, pending developments, and a little something I’m calling Project Twilight.
Things picked up after lunch with the return of Ice Cream Fridays. Today’s flavors: Vanilla Butter Tart and Milk Chocolate Macaroon. Check out the look of utter contentment on Carl’s face. Doesn’t it just warm your heart?
Mailbag returns in tomorrow’s entry when I will answer almost none of your questions. But some. In the meantime, here’s a vid of the beloved Paul McGillion walking the back lot enroute to Stage 2. Click on the link or just check out the video below…
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