It's All Terry's Fault

Blame Terry.

Darling Spouse had to go overseas on business about two months ago, and it was a long, difficult two weeks. I felt like all I ever did was walk (roll) the dog, take care of the cats' I/O, and work. Not much sleep (since the dog needed to be rolled twice a day), and not much in the way of cooking or eating either. Just keeping the house and office going singlehandedly. I've done it before (albeit with only a single cat and no dog), but it's so much nicer not to have to. It was a rough two weeks.

Then they told him that he had to go again! Same deal: a week in the UK and a week in Sweden, in early December this time. Bummer!

So I tell all this to my friend Terry, who lives around the corner from my office and comes in once a week for allergy shots. And Terry begins to berate me: "You have to go with him this time!"

I roll my eyes and invoke my reality. I can't go with him. I'm self-employed; no work, no eat. I have the dog, and the cats, and the house. Besides, he'll be working. What would I do all day for two weeks?

"Those are nothing but excuses! You have to go!" continues Terry.

I smile.

Then I go home, and I tell DS about seeing Terry, how Terry yelled at me, and so on. We agree that I can't get away for two whole weeks, but we begin to hem and haw a bit; see what we can work out. He sits down at the computer and researches (really cheap) flights; he realizes he can shift his hotel arrangements around a bit, and voila!

The dog is being boarded; the cats and house are being sat; coverage is arranged; later this afternoon, I am outta here. I've got my camera, and this adorable little netbook for surfing, blogging and the like. It even has a port for the card from my camera, for convenient picture posting.

I'm going to Stockholm for the weekend.

And it's all Terry's fault.

Thank you, Terry.