Arise, Ass Director
I’ve been back from Ireland for about a week now, and I can’t believe that was ever even on vacation. It seems like months ago, and I am already gonads-deep in work. Mind you, being back in Ottawa in the summer is a little like being stuck in some weird vacation land. Witness this sight from downtown. And no, this is not the new LRT:
In addition to some consulting work that is eating up all of my free time, I have begun my new role as Assistant Director… or, as I call it, the “Ass Director.” Makes me want to be a Vice Dean one day, just so I can call myself a “Dean of Vice.” A lot of the job involves dealing with student issues and I sooooo want to tell you all about the most ridiculous complaints/requests…. but I can’t. I won’t. I will take them to my grave. And since I don’t intend on ever dying, they will evaporate into the ether.
As I am now cohabiting with the Blonde One and the Quadrupedal Canine, a new routine has had to evolve. Luckily, both our professions allow variety and flexibility in schedules, so Professor Fuzzy Face doesn’t have to be alone for very long each day. We’ve hired a dog walker who has finally managed to earn our adopted son’s tolerance. But still, when I leave for the day, he looks at me like I just broke his heart. Behold the face of the victimhood of betrayal:
When the weather is nice, we let him on the patio, and he just stares out from between prison bars, dreaming of sweet horrible freedom:
But when we are all at home and I’m up late at night trying to work (as I am now), he stays with me to make sure the monsters don’t eat me. Behold my burly protector in all his surly and burly glory:
We have also acquired a robotic vacuum cleaner, the Neato D7, which the Blonde One has named “Jimothy“. Here is a pic of Jimothy at his best, thoroughly and autonomously cleaning our large house. As Blonde Girl puts it, it’s like having a maid that you don’t have to pay:
The other day, though, Jimothy seemed to have a seizure. He got himself into a corner, then by brute force starting pushing some furniture around. This might have messed up his internal map, because he kept going back into difficult corners and taking up to 15 minutes to wriggle his way out.
This frustrating sight culminated in Jimothy seemingly trying to climb up the inclined leg of a table, whereupon he got stuck and essentially started to hump the table.
This got the attention of the dog, who otherwise ignores Jimothy and is careful to stay out of his way. Dogulus immediately started to bark at the humping robot. And when Jimothy finally got himself free, the Fuzzy One went over to sniff and lick him, to make sure his robotic adopted brother was okay.
This, my friends, is the beginning of one of two things. Either it’s a heartfelt tale of a mixed family who finds love with its interracial parents and adopted sons, one canine and one mechanical. Or it’s the start of a tehno-horror, ending with Blondie and I cowering in the corner with Dog, as Jimothy and his robot friends control and house and demand our quiet obeisance, our sole role reduced to making sure the electricity bill is paid up.
In Other News
Last night, we were roused from our repose by the sounds of sirens. Seems an intoxicated man fell into a 30 feet deep hole at the end of the street. A large rescue entailed. And the dog was not amused. I got a quick video:
The news story was pretty unremarkable and not reflective of the drama of the event.
There you have it, my droogies. Back to work now.