Wiring: Check

Well, in spite of the humidity and heat, Bill is finished crawling around in the attic, splicing wires, shaking off cobwebs, sweating, discarding dead mice, and generally have a swell time. In other words, the wiring is finished in the mud room! Yeah. Quite honestly, when I casually said, "Hey, let's put an outlet here. . . and another one here. . .Oh, and another one over there," I had no idea what was involved or what I was asking. Bill had to figure out where the exisiting wires went, which ones he could splice into, and--gosh, I really don't know what else. All I know is that Bill would occasionally appear in the kitchen, drenched in sweat, covered in dust, and say, "Tell me if this light goes out when I switch off the breaker." But hours and hours of sweat, toil, and almost no swearing have paid off. We have an outlet for the frig, one for above the counter, and another one on the opposite wall, not to mention two three-way light switches and this nifty garage door indicator that blinks a red light when you've left your garage door open and a green light when it's closed. Nice, huh? And during all this work, Bill has still found the time to spoil the cutest puppy ever, Beau.
Speaking of Beau, he's still getting us up only once a night (around 2:00 AM for a quick potty break and then right back in his crate) and then again around 4:45 AM. Potty training is going pretty well--or shall I say, human training is going pretty well. Beau has us trained to let him out every thirty to forty-five minutes (when he's awake, anyway), so we're all very proud of our progress in this area. Only a few times have we had a panicky moment when no one knew where the puppy was: "Where's Beau?! I thought YOU were watching him! Where is he?!?!" Otherwise, smooth sailing. Angus and Dooley remain extremely tolerant. Angus shows some signs of passive-aggressive behavior by occasionally stealing Beau's puppy kong and eating all the yummy paste inside. I try to turn a blind eye to this and let her get away with it, at least for a while. She is, after all, old and very, very patient with the puppy (who finds her tail incredibly entertaining). Dooley just hides in his crate or somewhere downstairs. He's always been afraid of small dogs. Little does he know that in just a few short months, Beau will be bigger than he is--unless Bill's claim that Beau is really just a six year old dog someone pawned off as a Great Dane puppy proves true. He insists that Beau's not going to get any bigger. Dream on!
Coming soon to a blog near you: drywall, flooring, and light fixtures.