I'm gonna continue to hang out upstairs here at the computer desk, and avoid the downstairs. Hubby and the dog are at it again with the fly hunt. You see, we had a few days of late summer heat here, and it brought flies. Hubby absolutely hates flies. Dog love flies, as he believes that food with wings are a delicacy.
So in the theater of war downstairs, hubby has been spraying a can of Raid like a madman, all over the downstairs--I can even smell the stench of that spray up here. Meanwhile, dog has been running around, crashing into furniture, leaping up into the air and catching the occasional fly. (More flies get away, than what he catches.
) Then I hear hubby yelling at the dog to spit out the flies he licked up off the floor, because those were the ones hubby had sprayed with Raid, and he told the dog he'd die of DDT poisoning!
This is my life . . .