This year’s vacation not a mellow time

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 16/08/2017 (3260 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

What with North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un pondering firing missiles at anyone with a better haircut, and the political chaos and violence unfolding south of the border, I’m guessing most of you are champing at the bit to hear about my summer vacation.

I would like to tell you I am totally relaxed and feeling mellow, but the problem is I had to kick off my two-week holiday with an intense house-cleaning binge due to the fact my spouse, She Who Must Not Be Named, had been away on a 12-day road trip visiting friends and family on the West Coast, leaving me and our two dogs to fend for ourselves.

By the time my wife was ready to return, our home looked like a college frat house after a weekend keg party in the sense that, thanks to my inability to operate the washer and dryer and dishwasher, the floor was littered with used underpants.

Similarly, every inch of counter space in the kitchen was stacked to the ceiling with filthy dishes and empty juice, pop and adult beverage containers.

I am extremely proud of myself because, in conducting an all-out cleaning offensive, I was able to figure out which of the giant plastic bins in our back yard is for garbage and which is for recycling, along with discovering that if you ignore the laws of physics you can stuff more mould-encrusted plates and cups into a dishwasher than the human mind can imagine.

Apparently I did a satisfactory job because my wife, who has the ability to detect dirt particles at the molecular level, did not physically remove any of my medically important organs when she returned home.

That’s when I began the next phase of my vacation, in which I attempted to test Newton’s first law of motion that states a body in motion will remain in motion, whereas a body at rest is most likely an overweight newspaper columnist on the couch in his den.

And so, with the house reasonably hygienic, there I was at the beginning of my holiday, stretched out on a reclining patio chair in the backyard, ready to read a cheesy mystery novel and sip a nourishing malted beverage, when, suddenly and without warning, the quiet and calm was shattered by the following sound: “WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!”

Initially, I assumed the noise was emanating from the angry woodpecker that hammers the trees in our yard every summer,.

But this ear-splitting ruckus was coming from Assiniboine Park, which is located right beside my house to ensure that legions of mice can use it as a staging ground before invading my basement.

Accompanied by my wife and our two dogs, I bravely trudged over to the park and pressed my nose up against a wire fence.

Behind it, giant machines were huffing and puffing and driving piles for Canada’s Diversity Gardens, which will replace the aging conservatory and is the final phase of a major redevelopment at the park.

“WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!” went the piledrivers every (bad word) day, which is when we decided to abandon plans to enjoy the peace and quiet of our yard in favour of a thrilling walk through the zoo.

That turned out to be even noisier than the construction project, thanks to hundreds of small children who were shrieking their heads off while being menaced by humongous dinosaurs.

I am referring here to the zoo’s Dinosaurs Alive! exhibit, wherein 16 life-size animatronic prehistoric monsters flash their steak-knife-sized teeth and waggle their knobby heads and razor-sharp claws in a sincere and humanitarian effort to cause visitors to wet themselves.

The way it works is you do not look at these dinosaurs directly; instead, you stand with your back toward these beasties, holding your cellphone in front of your face to take a selfie that makes it look as if you are about to become a delicious snack for a creature the size of the Richardson Building.

On the day we were there, dozens and dozens of sweaty camera-toting tourists were trying to take selfies at exactly the same time, which resulted in friendly conversations such as this:

Me: “Ouch! Your elbow is in my ear!”

Another selfie enthusiast: “Argh! Move your stupid head. You’re blocking my view of the Albertosaurus!”

Dinosaur: “ROAAAAAAAAR!”

So the high-tech dinosaurs were a vacation highlight.

In fact, if it weren’t for technology, my holiday would have been a bust.

I say this because the main holiday activities I engaged in were (a) buying and learning how to use a fancy new computer; and (b) replacing our old-fashioned TV remote control with a state-of-the-art voice-activated system.

The computer was fairly easy to learn — as you can tell from the ease with which I have incorporated semi-colons (;;;) into today’s column — but getting acquainted with the voice-activated TV controller was much more satisfying.

Thanks to our new high-tech remote, for the first time in my life, there is something in our home that (a) listens when I speak (”No, I said CBC News, not CBC Nudes!”); and (b) does whatever I tell it to do.

The only thing the voice-controlled remote refuses to do at the moment is bring me a cold beer while I’m lying on the couch.

But that’s OK, because I’m pretty sure I can program one of the zoo’s robotic dinosaurs to do that.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca