Monday, July 18, 2011

I think maybe I'm a little bit of a psychopath. But in a good way.

So in our backyard there is a small concrete patio covered by the roof. Until last week it housed an orphan side table, every cooler we own, our barbecue grill, and three decrepit camp chairs. In a fit of neurotic obsession, I decided that I MUST own a patio set, and that I MUST not pay more than $100, and that I MUST procure said patio set before dawn on Sunday. I have no idea why I decided these things, but I knew them to be true. Luckily I found a perfect set at The Walmart. And I brought it home. And it was perfect.

So now our previously super ghetto back porch is now a "seating area" and the perfect place for outdoor dining (read: letting the kids eat the messy food without pretending that I'll actually mop after the meal). Except. Except. Except that our backyard is also home to our wonderful, amazing dog. Who has sucky "companions." Sucky companions who suck at certain, less savory dog-owning responsibilities. So our backyard has flies. And a shit ton of them.

Despite all this, I was determined to christen our backyard abode. We got take-out with my dad and stepmom and settled in for a lovely dinner. It was lovely. Super lovely in fact. And afterwards I set Syd's highchair in the grass to clean it off. But there were a couple of flies being attracted to her left overs so I went and got the swatter (BTW, it was my second-string swatter. C totally broke my good killing stick trying to kill a wasp last week. Fucker.) There are two things I learned from this experience. 1) A highchair makes an excellent fly bait and 2) killing flies is pretty cathartic. I'd bet that I killed 100. And what's more, I liked it. A lot. In fact, I was kind of excited today to come home and find a couple of those nasty bugs in the window. And then I squashed 'em good. SLAP!

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