This morning I wake up and head into the yard, bleary-eyed from a night of forget-me-quick drinking and shooting zombies, and photoshopping a site update I’ll post tonight, and I stagger into the laundry room.
I open the back door (the dryer sits outside because this house pre-dates the idea of wanting to dry something inside) and notice something on the brick, hiding in the rapidly advancing weeds. A proud pile of brown resting in my yard, triumphantly staking it’s flag on my property. Sadly it wasn’t a team of UPS drivers.
Nope, it looked like the dog had pooped on the brick again. Ugh, TWICE. Goddamned dog, first he’s barking all night long, and now he’s shitting on the bricks in the backyard instead of in the grass. When will he/she ever learn?!
That’s when it struck me: I don’t own a dog. The barking hound that keeps me up at night belongs to the neighbor. The same neighbor throwing fruit at my house last week. Now I’ve got two healthy-sized piles of feces in my yard to contend with. Not sure if it’s that dog or not because I’ve never seen it. Just heard it.
Time to throw on the security cameras, check the footage. Is it meth addict, is it fruit-chucker, or is it ghost mutt?
Sadly, sometime in the last week the security cameras stopped working, so while I’m resetting the system, and the cameras all come online, I notice something moving in the corner of camera 4… two somethings…
An adolescent dalmatian and her puppy. Goddamned it, I can’t be pissed at that. But I can be pissed at the people who own them.
I send Scott, Director of Homeland Security to investigate.
Dammit, she works for Sony… this is a potential contact. So now, how to create a networkable connection while still getting the GD dogs quiet. This is the greatest challenge Simpson/Hemstead has yet to overcome.