One of those days, ya know?

I've got a bazillion things I could be doing right now. But I'm posting -- again -- and eating Cream of Wheat. Oh, Cream of Wheat; I adore thee. Perfect. Comfort. Food. I'm such a food whacko.

The kitchen's a mess, even though I did load the dishwasher. There are papers and bags of dog medicine and toddler tid-bits strew about. The floor needs swept at least, and is overdue for a good mopping. The floors throughout the house need vacuumed; mirrors need de-spotting. The entire edifice needs tidying. And I'm not tidying. Despite my recycling efforts and attempts to turn off the sink while brushing teeth (not to mention our low-flow toilets) I have the television on Animal Planet with the volume down low...I'm in the other room.

I just put another scoop of creamy goodness down the hatch.

Today is just one of those days, ya know? Adrien woke up at the crack of before dawn -- most likely 5am or before. I've stopped looking at the clock, because it only makes me depressed to still be getting up in the middle of the night for a 16 month old. My husband got up and started to do his own thing; sitting with us for a mere 20 minutes early in the A.M. before he got up from the couch and left Adrien dancing circles while standing on one of the dining room chairs (and flipping lights on and off). I was trying to doze on the couch, but was forced from my place when I realized my son was playing ring around the rosie while standing on something that is a good 2 1/2 feet from the solid ground. Nevermind the fact that Adrien was screaming his little toddler lungs out...joyously I'm sure.

A little while later I hear my husband proclaim something (from the office in front of the computer). When I ask "What?" he replies that he's trying to figure out how much we've spent on Max (aka Rocky our new beagle I've yet to blog about) so far.

I don't even want to know...

So that's what you're in there doing, I wonder. I'm in here with a crazy toddler and a dog who has to have an e-collar on; I've been up since who knows when; and that's what you're doing?!? He corrects me: "I'm balancing the checkbook..." That entire exchange stresses me out. For one: I'm tired. Second: I feel as if Andi has to resort to checkbook balancing to avoid me. Third: Adrien is running around with a poopy diaper that he's had for God-knows how long and will not let me change it. Fourth: Do I need a fourth? I mean, the list could go on. Family finances stress me out. Our new dog's bill stresses me out. Nearly $500 later, and I'm liking him much less than when we decided to adopt him. No refunds, eh?

The pile of dog poop I found in the play room yesterday is stressing me out -- along with the subsequent puddle of K9 urine found in our closet. The dog's reluctance to eat alone is enough to drive anyone bonkers. And my incessant need to try and track down the previous owner only further drove my paranoia that this dog would turn out to be a hindrance on my sanity. You see, Max was double-microchipped. Apparently the SPCA did not find the first one before they inserted their own because the initial one put in by the previous owner had migrated up by his ear, and they don't scan that region when looking for a chip. At the vet the other day, we found the chip and found out his name was actually Max (we'd dubbed him Rocky). I decided to search the net for missing dogs matching his description in the area, and low and behold -- I found one listing for a beagle named Max. I called the number to be sure the family wasn't still looking for him. They weren't. It was the correct family though. After many escapes, they'd relinquished him to a shelter. The lady also cited that he was too hard to take care of because he would not potty train and refused to eat unless hand-fed. Stressful. I assured the woman that I had another dog. But I don't. I have that dog. I just had to call, didn't I?

What started as an optimistic start to a great relationship with a dog who all in all is pretty great, turned me into a pessimistic Polly and now I am convinced things are going awry. What did Max do today? He nearly got out.

Not to mention that the incision from the neuter the SPCA did on him is not healing and I've had to invest in anti-biotics and anti-inflammatories (hence the e-collar, so he won't lick himself nonstop and keep it from healing). He hasn't gone outside today to do his business. He hasn't eaten at all today. Stress. Almost $500 worth of stress. For what? So that Adrien could have a dogga to love.

Back to the scene with my husband in the office. I couldn't believe he was balancing his checkbook. He could be doing anything else but that. I mean, why not offer to watch Adrien for like 15 minutes so I could successfully doze off? While trying to change Adrien's soiled nasty-pants I had made several loud cries for help from the husband -- all to no avail. I had to literally ask him to help me. I always feel a bit inadequate asking. But come one, he's your spawn too. Help with the pooper scooper duties.

And on top of it, I knew 10:30am was coming: That meant I would be heading to the vet with a dog and a toddler who likes to play with all the cat toys for sale in the lobby.

It has been one of those days. Then I called to ask Andi if he'd like to do lunch -- "Can't we do it tomorrow, there's that thing today." Sure. I really was sad. I wanted to get out of the house. And sometimes I just want my husband to have the ability to stay in the same room with me for a little while. We get off the phone; he calls me back in about two minutes.

You sound sad, he says.

Well I am a little sad.

We can do lunch tomorrow.

I'm not sad about lunch.

Well good, I'm glad you're not sad about lunch.

I'm just sad in general today. I guess tomorrow's alright. I don't think I have anything going on.

Well get out of the house and do something. Go for a walk.

I don't want to go for a walk.

...one...of those...days. Sigh.