All Over But The Dryin'

Who knew an eclipse could be so much work?

Yesterday I decided to take a kitchen chair out onto the back porch deck to "watch" the total eclipse. It was awkward, but not as difficult as it would have been to drag the metal chair from the side porch to the back porch. 

First I had to take Farmer H's winter vest off his chair, the closest one to the kitchen door. Well, except for the spare chair right next to the door, with some caps and a gift bag that says "Have Yourself a Merry Christmas." No idea what's in there, it's his junk, not mine. 

Anyhoo... that winter vest is like cotton duck workpants material, not a puffy thermal vest. It has a sheepskin-look lining, and is heavier than one might imagine. Plus there was a plastic grocery bag of something hanging on the other side. Again, I didn't look. I was in the business of getting seating for a total solar eclipse, not cleaning up Farmer H's hoard.

Anyhoo... I got that chair out to the corner of the porch. Then upon sitting down and seeing a wasp fly out from under the corner board that makes a little flat surface for once upon a time holding BBQ accoutrements, I wondered if that had been a good decision. It was the only pest, though. Well. Unless you count Jack and Scarlett. It's easy to transpose those last two letters sometimes. While I love my pets, they can each in their own way be a pest.

I allowed myself a half hour for the viewing. The totality itself was only about 40 seconds here. I wanted to enjoy the dimming atmosphere. It's not every day you get to see a total solar eclipse.

Anyhoo... the minute I started dragging that chair across the porch, here came the dogs. Scarlett was a bit more subdued than usual, not bouncing up and down like a hyperactive pogo stick salesman after 20 Red Bulls. Just a bit of hopping and positioning herself to keep Jack away. Jack is no dummy. He went around to my left side the moment I sat down. 

Thus began the struggle to "watch" the eclipse. I think five minutes of petting is sufficient. The dogs did not. My lovey little Jack put his front paws on my knee politely, and I leaned over to hug him and sweet-talk him while absentmindedly fending off Scarlett with some errant pats, just keeping in contact with her.

Scarlett always wants more. She roots her head under my arm if my attention lags. She tries to crawl into my lap. I suppose her eventual goal is to crawl down my throat. She can't get close enough. One of her big paws scratched the front of my throat as I was fending her off. It wasn't her usual frenzy, just constant creeping, trying to climb higher and higher on me. She tried to ascend from every angle. I finally got her between my feet when Jack ran off to sniff a trail through the woods with Copper Jack. Scarlett's back legs may have grown tired, because she SAT and accepted head pats during the main part of the eclipse.

When the light started to return, I saw that my comfy home clothes were COVERED with dog hair!!! The fine white undercoat of Jack on my left leg, and the longer floating-around red-and-white locks of Scarlett on my right leg. Of course the Scarlett hairs were all over my zippered sweatshirt as well.

Dang it! No way those hairs were brushing off. Especially Jack's. Stuck to my dark blue sweatpants. Scarlett's hair would come off, but settle right back after swirling around. So it was off to the washer. Except I was headed to the shower and then town, so I didn't want to start a load of clothes to leave unattended. Farmer H's old friend Buddy's wife did that, and their hose connecting the cold water to the washer had a malfunction, and they returned home to a flooded laundry room.

Anyhoo... the washing had to wait until I got home and made supper, and as I type this, it's all over but the dryin'.