Lousy

BIGGER.

Pretty nice photo taken by Happy Wife with her new phone. My old phone. She’s a passive Luddite around smart phones, a judgement she wouldn’t deny, and one she’s not the least bit shamed by. I say “passive” because she will concede some features of a cell phone are convenient — When I was in Seattle we texted back ‘n forth one night and she commented, “This is fun!” and I was like, Hello. But encourage her to learn more and she’s right back to: “I don’t want to know how all that stuff works. I just want to make calls, and get calls. Okay, and maybe text. And pictures. But that’s it.”

Over the phone guidance remains a challenge. “Can I send you this picture?” Why yes dear you can — I hear it in her voice, she’s excited, she wants to know more! I anxiously tell her the steps, then realize it was too quick, I sense she’s struggling. I try to reassure her: “No worries, just slow down… Now, open the gooey (GUI) and tell me what you see.” Silence. When she hears “gooey” she doesn’t think Graphical User Interface, no, she thinks sushi, specifically Geoduck (pronounced “gooey duck”), a favorite of hers.” I say, “Okay, forget what I said, just hit the back button, then your menu button, and …”

“Oh nevermind,” she interrupts, “I’ll just show you the picture when you get home.”

Sigh.

Moving right along; the dogs have lice. Evidently the skin-chewing kind. The other kind sucks blood. Symptom: incessant scratching. We washed all the blankets and sheets and whatnot they lay on around the house (which is considerable; you’d think we were running a canine hostel). Then we put the dog beds (3) outside for a couple hours — A little winter cold for you my pretties (sinister laugh). Finally, Happy Wife bathed them both with special shampoo, at least three times now. Seems to have helped. They still scratch now and then but nowhere near as much as before. Some web site said that in order to prevent reinfection we should, effectively, delouse the entire house.

And I’m like, no, I’m not doing that. Turn off the heat, throw open the windows and leave for the weekend — maybe. Freeze the damn things to death. Yeah, that’s the ticket.