1. I’m very, very busy and tired. I worry that I’m neglecting this site. There’s always something else to do these days.
2. I got another job. It all happened rather fast. My temporary position ends in November and, worried that waiting until the last minute to search for a replacement gig was really unwise, I began looking around. Had an interview Monday and made the decision by Tuesday afternoon. September will find me doing both jobs and by early October I will have transitioned to the new position exclusively.
3. I started school. After all the dithering and debating (and bitching and moaning) I’ve done about school, the actual business of going was nothing so much as a huge relief. Sure, homework is a bitch, but not as much of a bitch as worrying about the possibility of homework.
[WARNING: MAJOR POOP TALK AHEAD. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.]
4. Isabelle got sick. As in really sick. While I was busy chasing the poopy puppy (who is now alternating between soft serve and solid poo’s), poor FurGirl was nursing a bad infection of her own likely caught from the junior petri dish. By the time I realized what was happening (FurGirl was producing her own special brand of soft serve), the big dog was very poorly. I whisked her off to the vet who recommended she enter the canine hospital for a night.
I felt HORRIBLE. My poor, faithful, long suffering FurGirl.
She is okay now , though. A round of antibiotics and some special food made for pooches with stomach upset has turned the situation all around. FurGirl is home and seems back to normal.
5. Tallulah. Oy. She has trouble, um, cutting off her poo stream at an opportune moment. Somehow, the last of it (way too much of it) always ends up stuck to her back butt. It’s too horrifyingly bad to ignore (and I’m really sort of a champion at ignoring unpleasant stuff—look how long I stayed married). So, yah, I am, literally, wiping her ass on occasion. I was explaining this to someone at a party over the weekend—how I had to get a warm wet paper towel after Tallulah’s backside on an all too regular basis—when this person got a faraway look in his eye. And then allowed as to how that all sounds so enjoyable, he might just have to come over for the weekend if that’s the kind of treatment one can expect at my house.