I’m not usually this kind of blogger, but I feel the need to admit defeat and scream into the void right now.
I’m tapped out. I’m stressed. Fraction’s in LA and I have the house to myself right now. Ordinarily, this is a Good Thing. I’m an only child. I love, adore and admire my husband, but I also cherish my alone time. I’m seldom bothered by his business travel, which is good I guess, as he’s been away for three months at a stretch before. Frankly, I’ve been looking forward to this. I feel cheated that I’m having anxiety dreams and my shoulders haven’t dropped at all. I wish I could have sent the dogs and cats (and the dining room and the kitchen and the spare room) to California with him.
The dogs, in particular, are not helping. They got me up at 6:30 this morning. The new guy? I like him all right, but he whines and drools and farts and nips at me and chews things and knocks things over and NEEDS ATTENTION NEEDS ATTENTION NEEDS ATTENTION. At one point last night I just started crying it was making me so crazy. (Niles happened to call and talked me down, bless him.) It’s not the dog’s fault. He’s bright; he corrects very well and he minds my commands better than Applejack — or more quickly anyway. He gets off the stairs when I snap my fingers, comes back in when I whistle, he even sits reliably on command now. In Cesar’s terms, he clearly respects me as the pack leader. He does want to please me. …Desperately. He’ll have his manners down soon, but in the meantime I’m feeling sorry for myself. I resent the people who abandoned him. I want to beat them with a bag of rocks. On the one hand, I chose this and I know it’s the right thing to do. On the other hand, why is this dog my problem? We just got Applejack out of puppyhood! I wasn’t sitting around missing the days of constant correction and chewed shoes, you know? And books! The new dog chews books! WTF?! That’s a capital crime.
Also? The fucking dog needs a name. Clearly, Valentine isn’t going to stick. And yes, “New Dog” is amusing, but it’s a way to talk about the dog, not to him. Isn’t it?
Whatever his name is, he goes to the doctor on Thursday to get neutered and he’ll stay at the vet’s over the weekend so that he doesn’t come home and rip out his stitches wrestling with Applejack. I’m looking forward to it like it was a spa vacation. I even entertained the notion of boarding Applejack at Puppy’s Playpen to give myself a canine-free couple of days. Would that make me a bad mother, I wonder. It doesn’t matter – I won’t actually do it as Applejack is also the designated house and mom protector. I don’t think it would be wise to board him.
I’m behind on a deadline and it’s so… frustrating. Embarrassing. If I’m being honest, I know this is the crux of my attitude problem. I keep getting in my own way and I know it, but I can’t seem to figure out the way around. (Paid work is all caught up. I assure you, no one is waiting on their manga. I’m not a complete idiot. But commitments are commitments and when I’m not meeting mine I feel like shit.) I think that’s probably the root of my anger right now — fear. Ain’t that always the way.
Also — and this could really keep me up at night — I’m not sure which I hate more: the “So Co and lime” commercials or the “di Saronno on the rocks” commercials. My hate for each is so immense in its own right. How to choose?
I need to hit the reset button this morning and I’m just not sure how to do it. Oddly enough, writing this is helping.
I’m thinking about turning off comments for this post. The very point of screaming into the void is that the void doesn’t echo. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Honestly, I always get like this in February. I hate the cold. It wears on me and my frustration peaks this time of year. I’m sure you have lovely things to say, but my temper is short and I’m afraid I’m just not into living in the solution right now. If anyone reminds me that the sun will come up tomorrow, I might reach for my bag of rocks. Pity me and I’ll make sure they’re pointy.
The electrician is on his way over and the dogs are going to make his life hell. This should be fun.
How about this, I’ll leave the comments open, but only so that you can weigh in on the hot “So Co and lime”/”di Saronno on the rocks” debate.