Fixing Gracie. Not literally, no, no. I mean metaphorically. Fix her so that she doesn’t destroy things.
I recently had been thinking about changing the oil in Gracie’s dresser, given all the miles it has traveled as of late. The dresser is solid wood, and is very heavy. Gracie recently has been pushing it all about her bedroom. When she’s not doing that she’s opening the drawers the little bit she can, taking stuff out of the drawers, and either chewing on it and/or strewing it about her room. The drawers have child locks on them, but the locks allow the drawers to open about two inches.
Last week we changed our satellite TV service, and decided to move service from one of our other TV’s to Gracie’s. Prior to that Gracie watched movies on DVD or via Netflix. After getting home from work the day our service was changed, I went into her room to check out the installer’s work… sigh… this is why I have to do things myself. Cables everywhere, and a receiver on top of a well-traveled dresser. It wasn’t but a few days later that Gracie decided to take the dresser for a ride and ripped all the cables out of their connections, and broke the wall plate of the receptacle into which the power cords were plugged.
I put everything back in its place, reconnected all the cables, etc. Later that evening I go to check on Gracie and I find the dresser has been moved again. The receiver is dangling underneath the TV, hanging by its cord. I get some tools from our garage, return to her bedroom, and dismantle Gracie’s source of televised entertainment. I move her TV and all its accoutrements to a more secure location in our home, with plans for the coming weekend to fix Gracie. It’s 11:30 in the evening when I finish, and I need to get up in less than six hours to get ready for work.
I basically bolted Gracie’s dresser to her floor, hid all the cables in a conduit fastened to her bedroom wall, and strapped the TV satellite receiver to the side of the dresser. Flush with satisfaction, I use my phone to take pictures of my handiwork and send them off to Kristine. Gracie’s mother is in Michigan on a business trip.
I need a better plan for keeping Gracie out of her drawers. Make that plans, plural. And sometime before or after I address the drawer situation, I have another project to tackle: Gracie’s window blinds. She is destroying them. I’m leaning towards replacing the window with one that has blinds between the interior and exterior panes of glass. That will set me back a nice chunk of change, no doubt.
At this moment Gracie is pacing the family room floor, looking for something to get into. She stands with one foot in Mitsu’s water bowl (Mitsu is our dog, an eight-month old Akita). Gracie walks over to Mitsu, who’s sprawled out along the floor, napping. Gracie stands over Mitsu and sticks a foot into Mitsu neck.
“No, Gracie! Leave Mitsu alone!” I yell.
Gracie wanders away from Mitsu, over to the door leading out to our rear patio, and turns the doorknob. I’m waiting for the day she figures out how to operate the deadbolt. What do I do then? Eh, when we cross that bridge. And all during this time, while writing this post, Gracie has been humming non-stop. It’s maddening. Even when she’s not here, I think I hear her humming.