Last night we left Emma downstairs in her playpen. She didn’t like it very much.
Giving full vent to her annoyance, she squealed for ages. I left her for a bit but eventually went down and gave her the rolled up newspaper treatment. Not on her, I hasten to add. I hit the sides of the playpen, telling her, in no uncertain terms and voice, that her noises were unacceptable.
This worked for about 30 seconds. We lay in bed, listening to her plaintive wails, pretending that it wouldn’t keep us awake. Then came a noise that defies description. A screechy, puppy from hell sound. Not quite a bark, not quite a howl and not quite a squeak. And yet, it was a combination of all these things. It chilled the blood.
There was nothing for it, Emma wasn’t going to settle so I went downstairs and slept with her on the long lounge. I managed a few hours sleep, remaining slightly alert for the possibility of her having a poo on me…which she didn’t.
In the morning, at a hastily convened but obligatory Council of War, it was decided that something had to be done. And poor Day-z was going to be the one to do it. Tonight, the plan is to lock them both in the laundry (which will be the dog room eventually, anyway) and hopefully they’ll sleep happily together and allow me a normal night’s sleep.
Needless to say, I was very tired all day and grew increasingly grumpy. Even during my weekly Skype with mum and dad, I found it difficult not to be grumpy. It served me well later in the day when Dave the Builder paid us a visit but otherwise, I don’t like being tired or grumpy.
In building news, as we slowly inch our way ever closer to completion, we only had Karl the Carpenter and young Callum for company today. They fixed up the coat cupboard (which used to be the door to the dining room)…
…made a magnetic door for the manifold…
…and prepared all the doors for internal barrels. Mirinda changed her mind about the door handles so Karl set about readying the doors to receive the new ones.
The day was wet and miserable. The rain didn’t really let up all day, meaning, essentially, two things. Firstly, Mark the Tiler couldn’t lay the remaining terrace tiles and, secondly, that the chippies had to work inside.
It also meant that I had two morose dogs on my hands.
Speaking of the pesky puppy, yesterday, Mirinda had to institute her own Berlin Wall, separating the kitchen from the rest of downstairs. The reason was because inquisitive Emma keeps going under the kitchen cupboards. The reason she can, is because Lee the Kitchen Fitter didn’t fit the plinth, leaving it for when he returns. While the small spaces are ideal for hiding from Day-z when her play becomes a bit too energetic, it’s not the safest environment for a small dog that delights in chewing things.
And so, the Berlin Wall was erected. And it works brilliantly.
Interestingly, Day-z could easily jump up onto the chair and leap over the board but she hasn’t, though she complains when I’m in the kitchen. I was tempted to show her how but reason reared it’s, usual fun-spoiling head, and I didn’t.