Monthly Archives: August 2021

When I got back the other day I took LoLa out to get the mail and so she could pee and poop.

Halfway down the driveway, LoLa stopped and sat.

Jesus Christ it’s hot, she said.

I tried not to laugh.

LoLa hates it when I laugh at her, but her voice coming out of something so little and chubby is just funny. She sounds like I imagine a Madge or a Marge would sound- kinda like she’d spent a lifetime drinking whiskey sours and chain-smoking Marlboros.

LoLa, I said, it’s not that hot and we’ve only walked about a hundred feet, and besides, you’re a Chiweeny- you’re part Mexican, you’re supposed to love the heat.

She cocked her head and looked up at me, squinting against the glare.

I’m also mostly Dachshund, which is German for I hate this fucking humidity, she said.

I stifled a smile.

I don’t think it means that, I said.

In my case it might, she said, tell me again why you brought me out into this hellhole?

LoLa, you’ve been cooped up in the house all day and I just thought you’d need to pee and poop, I said, and we need to get the mail.

LoLa looked down the driveway.

Soooooo, she said, you brought me out of my air conditioned comfort for mail I don’t care about and can’t read and to do things I don’t need to do right now.

And I had to admit it, she had a point.

Go it alone dickhead, she said, and then take me back upstairs.

It was mine, all mine; it was a place I could go to, to read, to write, to listen to music, to watch porn, to do whatever. I’d put up the NO GIRLS ALLOWED chain across the stairs and retire to my sanctum sanctorum.

Life was bliss.

Then Miss Carol and me visited her sister. And Miss Carol rode her sister’s Peloton. And Miss Carol decided she just had to have her own Peloton. She gushed it’s wonderfulness all the way home.

And I said- but where would we put it in our little house?

Miss Carol paused for half a breath and said- upstairs.

And I said- but that’s my Me Only Room.

Miss Carol shrugged You don’t use it THAT much, she said.

So it happened.

I went upstairs just recently to see what Miss Carol had wrought and it looks like a gym and smells like a sweaty Miss Carol.

I turned, and shoulders slumping, trudged back down the stairs, never to retun.

But cry not for me, because now that Miss Carol has transformed my Me Only Room into her She Only Gym I have-