Every Pogo poops… On the pad!

I’m not really in the mood to write, but I want to save this memory, so forgive me if this isn’t up to snuff.

Last night, Zach was lying on the floor playing with Pogo. Pogo padded off to the Wee-Wee pad and did his business, looking at Zach. Then he bounced back all happy and playful, an obvious pride splayed across his fuzzy little face. Course we gave him a treat for being a good boy — first time he’s gotten a treat other than at the vet’s during shots. So back and forth, four times in a row, he went on the pad, then got a treat. Over and over again, like he was holding in little bits so he could get more treats. Then for some odd reason he peed on the carpet. He walked while doing it, right over to the towel Zach had been wearing just a few minutes prior, and stopped to finish peeing on the edge of the towel. What a conundrum…

Again, no song title.

I feel like a turd for yesterday’s entry. I’ll just chock it up to PMS.

I don’t feel like looking up any lyrics right now.

So there are all these fires in San Diego, people evacuating, losing their homes… And all I can think about is that my husband decided not to take the half-day he was offered at work, and is instead helping out with disaster stuff.

I’m so proud of him for that, that’s so sweet. But he works late all the time, and all I can think about is these military families and their husbands coming home early and their wives greeting them with a big hug and holding them close. They all get to enjoy each other. But here I am, still waiting…

I know how incredibly selfish that is. But this is my journal, so I’m going to vent. I’m not proud of the way I feel, but I’m so tired of us losing time together. I know, we could be losing our home, yada yada. Trust me, I KNOW that. But he works late all the time. Then there’s this one time he could be off early…

I signed up to work at the call center if they need help, just waiting to hear back from them. Figure they won’t have too many people available during normal working hours, so they should be getting back to me.

I’m tired of him constantly working late with no comp time. When we first came to San Diego we were promised surprise half days when there wasn’t anything to do at the office, but that doesn’t happen. They always find something to do — completely useless somethings. I just want to be surprised. *sigh* How often do I have to say that?

He needs to get home so we can call his mom about our wedding plans. I was in tears last night because the wedding is in about nine weeks and I still don’t even know if we have a caterer, a band, a florist… And I know we don’t have a reception hall. Which means I can’t do invitations yet.

This is just one of those times when I want to be put first, even though I know right now the needs of others outweigh mine. I know it’s irrational. I’m proud he’s helping out, I’m just upset that I don’t get to enjoy the excited phone call that he’s off early, the unexpected embrace, the precious time…

And I’m incredibly worried about the wedding planning.

“[mood] Swing, swing…”

So there’s always that time, you know, during a month, when a woman has peculiar emotions. Two months ago I was very, very happy. It caused me to be affectionate and giggly. How odd… I’m usually a crying mess.

Last month it was just kind of a passing thing, no change.

This month I find myself full of energy and turning into a compulsive house-cleaner. Excellent! It was about time I sifted through that giant pile of laundry on the closet floor. And did the three loads or so of dishes. And cleaned off the coffee table… Thank you, hormones, for FINALLY kicking. What a nice surprise! Wonder what next month holds in store…

“Maybe it would be cool if I rocked it old school.”

“Testing, 1, 2, 3, can anybody hear me?”

I used to be quite the blogger. Then I quit for the longest time. Well, here it goes again. Don’t expect anything all too interesting; this is mainly just for my benefit. It’s not that I mind visitors, it’s just that I doubt my life is really all that interesting to anyone who’s not directly involved with it.

At least not yet.