some days just don't go as planned...

Day one of week thirty-six, and I woke up with high hopes for what I would accomplish. But as we all know, some days just don't go as planned.

On the agenda for the day: breakfast; nap (I don't sleep well at night, so like to doze through the morning news in the recliner, a slightly more comfortable position than in bed and on my sides); finish cleaning out and adding baby stuff to the bathroom; shower; go to the doctor's; go grocery shopping; spend some time with my puppy; and finish up the trim. And straighten the kitchen/dining room/family room; put away the laundry; and make the bed if I had time. I got exactly three and a half things out of that list done: breakfast, doc's, grocery shopping, and (this is the half) spending time with the puppy. Spending time yelling at and getting frustrated with my puppy is more like it.

Things didn't happen as planned today for various reasons, including Mya's incessant need to go outside then come back in. I have a dog with attention deficit disorder, apparently, which makes her forget to actually do her business and play instead--and then ask to go out five minutes or less after I have let her back in and cleaned her up: count four times during my "nap" and three times in the twenty minutes after Al left for hockey tonight. Half the time when she comes back in she feels the need to growl and bark and bite and jump; the other half she asks to come back in and wants to play the "No, I'm just going to sit out here right outside the door and taunt you because I really want you to chase me game." Hence the yelling. I've been trying to work on my patience the past two weeks, and it's not working very well.

Other reasons for the failed plans? A very nauseus feeling between about 11 am and 1 pm, and again for the past two hours (7 pm and 9 pm), during which I literally thought I was going to vomit but didn't. I even had the excessive saliva that always warns me before I puke. Don't know what that was about. And besides the nausea, my tendency to move slower, get tired more quickly, and overplan did me in on the rest. But there's always tomorrow, although my time tomorrow is even more crowded since Al's going to be working overtime and Serena (my cat) has a vet's appointment, Mya has training, and then we're going to dinner with Al's family to celebrate his birthday. I don't know that I'll get anything but those things done, other than letting Mya outside and back in about twenty times. (I know I'm harping on this, but it's getting very hard for me to get down on the floor, which is what I have to do to latch her collar to the tie-out and then again to unlatch her and clean her up when she comes back in. On top of that, it's pretty hard for me to get into and out of the recliner--the only semi-comfortable seat in the house--and of course she always wants to go out about thirty seconds after I've settled into it. And with Al working twelve-hour shifts, it's all up to me. Fun.)

If you've stuck with me this long, I apologize for the complaints and the unpleasantness of this blog. I'll leave you with something (somewhat) amusing to try to make up for it. The picture here was taken the other day. Mya was caught trying to help unwrap a baby gift that Bob, Laura, and Robyn got us. By the look on her face, it's obvious she knew she shouldn't have been doing so. But she didn't do any harm and was cute, so I couldn't resist taking a pic. Enjoy.