At least here in England it’s a short week. There’s still the usual seven days, but we have a long weekend of holidays again next weekend, so I only have to work for three days before I can have the opportunity for four more days off. To be fair my Mistress will probably do some work on some of them, but there aren’t many days she doesn’t. She says she enjoys it, but I think it’s just an addiction. I am not invited to the village Hog Roast on Friday. I’m upset as you can imagine. I’m rather partial to that sort of thing, but when they said it was for everybody it turns out they weren’t thinking quite as widely as I was. I asked if we could have our own barbecue here to compensate and my Mistress says she’ll think about it.
We’ve reached that critical time in Megan’s season where my Mistress won’t leave us alone together without supervision. I’ve been given the choice of being shut in a crate or the bedroom out of harms way, or being under constant supervision. I have inevitably chosen the latter. Of course, if the gates that my Mistress ordered for the doorways had been the right size, then it wouldn’t be a problem but something went wrong on the measuring front and she bought the wrong ones! The one that does fit is working well and even I can see some of the benefits, but until we replace the others we won’t have the full effect. There was a moment this weekend when she thought she had failed on the measuring front twice. They were trying to fit an additional clip to hold the drainpipe in place and it didn’t seem to fit. As it turned out what was missing was a little brute force and then all was well. I was all ready to laugh at her and suggest she bought a new tape measure, but I’ll have to save that comment for another day.