She came over and we quickly settled onto the couch to begin looking up everyone we ever knew on Facebook (don't worry, I still haven't gone over to the dark side... but she had an account). The PH kept interrupting us with phone calls asking me to keep an eye on the installers and I kept brushing him off, "I know, I know. I've got it under control." By the time he called to tell me I had to make sure they put the island in the correct place, I was annoyed and said, "Hon, I'm an adult. I got this."
Well, 20 minutes later, the guys yelled, "OK, we're all set here. Have a good day" and left. And I walked into the kitchen to find the island almost two feet too close to the wall. I swore, I panicked, I called the PH and almost started crying as he got (understandably) angry that I hadn't paid attention. He was pissed that we were now going to have holes in our brand new kitchen floor when they moved the island into the correct position. Finally, in a panic, I called the cabinet place to explain what happened and the guy's response was, "Did they anchor it?" I said, "You mean there's a chance they didn't?" and my friend and I lifted it in unison. "Oh, thank goodness, now my husband and I don't have to get a divorce!" I said to the guy before calling the PH with the good news. Still, my first place win had already been ensured.
But the PH followed my win up a few days later when he swept the "Father of the Year" category. The same friend was over (she is such a distraction!) and we were playing Wii while the dogs had a grudge match all over the house. The PH got home around 9 p.m. with a pizza so we all sat down to eat. About an hour later, my friend was talking about how funny the dogs were when they wrestled when I looked down and saw only Molly. So I started walking through the house to make sure Casey wasn't getting into trouble... and couldn't find Casey. Then I ran through the house, calling for Casey and opening closet doors in case she had accidentally gotten closed inside.
As everyone started putting on shoes and coats so we could comb the neighborhood, I opened the front door, yelled for Casey and held the door open as she came running around the corner of the house. She was a bit wet and a little cold, but no worse for the wear. In fact, I think the PH was more scarred by the experience than she was.
And if this story about Casey's terrible parents doesn't tug at your heartstrings enough, listen to this. I went out the next morning to see where Casey had gone by tracking her prints in the snow. I was curious whether she had run out to the road or to a neighbor's, etc. and to the best of my investigation skills, it looks like all she did was run from the front door of the house to the side door, trying to get in. I know, I know. Good dog, bad parents.