The Dog House

I made a fast decision (knowing that the bomb was about to drop) to move out. I had been planning, and hoping and plotting to for several months now and wishing for even longer than that. It finally became a reality. Granted it's no dream home. It is a little dark and stuffy and spiders and dogs haven't been the most tidy tenants. But it's in a nice neighborhood (A Mormon Bishop on one side and some Harley riders on the other side. I thinks it's pretty ironic that I should be living between the two. The street is packed with boys Guy's age and older to play baseball, basketball, football, soccer, and whatever other game they can think of to play with balls.

Guy was excited to have dogs and he began calling it the dog house to differentiate between our house and Grandma and grandpa's house. I wasn't really fond of the new name for my cherished apartment.

The first night we stayed in the basement apartment, I could not sleep because of the dog stench. The owner has three large dogs and he has to keep one of them segregated from the other two, so he was keeping him in a cage down there. The bed we slept on was right next to another cage that also reeked. I was eager to start vacuuming up the rugs and carpet in attempt to lessen the smell. When the landlord told me that I could pull up the stained carpet in the dining area that was laid down on ceramic tile like the rest of the basement I celebrated!

I pulled all the carpet up myself. I used gloves because it was so unsanitary. I even pulled up all the tack strips by myself. Last weekend my parents came to help me get up the remaining glue from the strips and wipe down the walls.

Yesterday was the first day that I was able to walk in and not be bit in the nose by the smell of dog! Yay!!