Better (A Little)

Saying that I'm better is basically wishing that a giant asteroid would hit my head and destroy my house. I don't actually want that so I'll hedge my bets by saying that I'm a little better. The great sadness has mostly left me, although occasionally I don't want to leave the house, but I'm told that's normal. I'm going to so much therapy that it would pain me to actually talk about. Even better, the nicest improvement is that I can be at work without crying or constantly eyeing the exits, wishing that I had enough courage to run sprinting out the door instead of sitting miserably in my desk chair.

There have been a lot of trying times that I'm trying to put past me. There have been romantic, interpersonal, and professional struggles that are all still there to a degree, but ultimately, I am feel better.

Just felt like I should update and say that out loud (err..in my head, I mean).

I'm going on a date tonight with someone that makes me very happy to be around. It's like going on a little vacation because I forget all my troubles when I'm around them. I literally don't do any housework or spend anytime worrying about money (one of my least favorite past times that I seem to do quite a bit of. See: never leaving the house when upset).

I do want to tell you about this dog of mine, known as Samantha - or Sam for short. Sam is a holy terror. She sleeps in a crate and goes to the bathroom outside (at least 65% of the time, or so)

She looks all cute and cuddly in this picture, but that's before she's gained 15 pounds and decided that rules are for suckers. When I forget to put her in a crate before I take a nap, I wake up to a house that has been completely decimated. Everything in chewing reach has been chewed to oblivion and scattered through the living room, bedroom, and dining room. At last count, she has completely destroyed and/or eaten: half a bottle of Elmer's Glue, 32 crayons, a sponge, a shower scrub, every piece of newspaper or copy paper in the house, 4 stuffed animals not-so-lovingly donated by Zac, rope, curtain pulls, socks, wooden train tracks, and so many other items that I can't stop to think about right now because I might banish her outside.

This guy loves her, though:

He tells me at least once a night what a good dog Sam is. For me, I never knew that dog ownership could be quite so...destructive. Sam is fiercely loyal and protective of her family, almost to the point that I have to put her outside to answer the door when someone comes over because I'm afraid that she'll rip out their jugular before they have time to slip her a treat.

Let's not even talk about the dog's relationship to the cat. My cat, Piper, is queen of the household and knows it. She hisses and bats at Sam whenever the dumb dog tries to lick Piper on the head or play with her. Those two are going to run the shag carpets in this house with their tangle of claws. Piper usually looks to me for protection and has been known to leap long distances to avoid walking on the floor where the dreaded dog is. You've never seen a happy cat than the one that comes up on my bed at night and demands to be petted, once Sam is in her crate. Seriously.

Raising a family of four, even when two of them are animals, can be tough. I feel like I'm in a never ending game of the "Farmer and Dell" and sometimes I wonder if I'm the cheese that the mouse takes at the end. If the boy takes the dog and the dog takes a cat, I'd like to think I'm Brie or Gouda - something fancy at least.