Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Maybe I should shut up.

My dog, although beautiful and covering me with buckets of saliva any time I walk in the door, is turning into the beast I am when I first wake up. She, Kaya, has separation anxiety so to avoid finding out if she'll be stronger than the Incredible Hulk and chew through her cage, I'm hiring a trainer, to come to the apartment (it's that necessary). I also don't like cleaning up lots of pee. Big dogs mean MORE pee.

The cute beast sleeps.

My job, overwhelming and sprinting after deadlines, is still a job in this godforsaken  economy. If I saw myself 3 years ago complaining, I'd have the nose of Mickey Rourke..beaten down after years of punches.

My godson, rooting me on to get work done because he needs more toys. I can't possibly deny him.

My boyfriend, rough and tough and fabulous (he likes the movie The Fast & The Furious which was almost a deal breaker upper)- just lost his father. It's an emotional roller coaster that I've never been on and I consider myself lucky in that respect. I go home at night balancing invisible cartons of eggs because I don't want to open my big, fat mouth and say something that might set off fireworks ("Do you mind taking out the garbage? Wait, no, sorry, I'll do it, I know, it's my garbage, I stink, I'm sorry, I got it.")
Me, balancing eggs. My glasses are pretty much the same.

So, last night, sans bottle of wine (I was really tempted but a hangover on Wednesday when I'm babysitting my godson the same night would just sprout 10 new grey hairs) I passed out, absolutely exhausted and a little whiney. This morning I woke up and heard the local angry walker (he chants and walks) with this morning's mantra being,"I am NOT an ASSHOLE. I am NOT an ASSHOLE." I's way of putting things in perspective.

The angry walker, but he usually wears sweats while he's chanting.