Hello! It’s me!

Our yard is a war zone … not in the militaristic sense, but certainly in some other sense I don’t possess the language to describe. Our casita has a foundation and much of the trenching is complete.

So Dad says “we’re getting out of the house today, let’s do some chores.” I thought this would be fun. It wasn’t much fun. I’d rather be doing this (visit the website if your email message doesn’t render the video like I’m rendering this creature) …

We prepared for our trip.

And we drove.

I snacked.

I sought out a change of scenery.

Dad kept listening to his music. I got tired of his music. I wanted to listen to my music for once. So I asked Dad a simple question.

“Can I listen to this song?”

Dad said the smoke from Snoop Dogg’s weed would penetrate our car if we listened to his music. He said no.

I asked for this song.

Dad asked me to stop asking for songs from artists with the word “Dogg” in their name.

I asked for this song.

Dad said I couldn’t ask for a song currently playing on SiriusXM. We then had this conversation:

Me: Can I hear something from Fats Domino? He died last week.

Dad: No. And you don’t even know a single Fats Domino song.

Ain’t that a shame? Hmmmm.

So we went back to endless driving. I felt boxed in, unable to do anything, unable to go anywhere.

But then Dad stopped at a classic establishment …

There’s nothing wrong with Chicken Chorizo, #amirite?

Did you see me stalking the goods?

And then more driving.

Our next stop was to pick up a sewing machine for Mom. Finally a diversion from the endless array of pop hits Dad forced upon me.

Dad said we were headed home. Whew!

When we finally got home (three hours later) I resumed normally scheduled activities.

It’s not fun to do chores. It’s even less fun to listen to Dad’s music. It’s a lot of fun to chew on rawhide!