Dirt by Guest Blogger

     

Dirt

It's everywhere.

I can't keep the floor clean, walking around barefoot feels like I've spilled the sugar, and I have pebbles in my bed.

Demolition progressed at a rapid pace. The first day, most of the patio was removed and a trench begun. The leftover cement pieces looked like a dried up streambed, all chunks and tumble. The second day, the rest of the cement was removed, the trench completed, and the beginnings of the cement-pouring forms appeared. Yesterday, the forms were finished. Suddenly it's hurry-up-and-wait time as they can't pour cement until what they've already done is inspected and approved.

Currently, the backyard is a disaster. There's a miniature corral around our back door, in a room shape. The "fence" is about two feet high and sits on the trench. You'd think we were building a castle, complete with mini-moat.

The house is a disaster, too, as every trip outside for the dog (about six to eight a day) means a trip outside for us, too. And each time, dirt comes back in on all six feet.

Ready? Picture this: It's 2:00 am and the dog barks, once. That means he needs to go out. Oh, joy. Harry goes because he's more awake at 2. (Lucky boy.) Half asleep, in robe and boots, he opens the back door. The dog jumps down the three-foot drop into the corral. Harry follows. At the "fence," Harry picks Bounty up and carries him over the barrier. With January's chill prickling the skin of his bare legs, he waits for the dog to be done. When Bounty's done his duty, it's time to lift him back into the corral.

Except Bounty doesn't want to go back. He's now thoroughly awake and the pressure of urine is gone so he wants to play. As Harry tries to coax Bounty to come, the dog responds with play bows, butt in the air, happy grin on his face. Sometimes he comes close, then gallops off around the yard.

Eventually Harry wins and both dog and husband come back inside.

In the morning, dog and husband dirt tracks dot the hardwood floor.

And just like trading off newborn baby chores, I think tonight it's my turn.


Copyright 2013 Michelle Hakala
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