I overdid it. I always do.
Excited by my purchase last month of one of those seductive little jars of scented oil that has a handful of thin little sticks poking out of it (it made the downstairs bathroom smell like VANILLA!), I ran back to TJ MAXX and bought three more scented bottles and distributed them upstairs.
While at first I enjoyed the olfactory safari I was transported on as I roamed through the house, after a day my nose was on overload. Every time I entered a room I was hit by a different scent of artificial, manufactured tranquility. Apple! Honeysuckle! Some sort of Fall scent that smelled like juice! Disoriented, I lay down this afternoon to take a 90 minute nap and had vivid, terrifying dreams. I woke up cringing in fear to the overwhelming, incongruous scent of apple. Why did I want my room to smell like this anyway? Enough was enough.
I freaked out, collected each bottle and screwed it shut and buried them all in the back of the hall closet.
Now I relish the actual smells of our house: Coffee. Used dryer sheets. Dog. That burny smell the vacuum leaves behind. Ahhhh. That’s more like it.
Now that I have a camera (thanks, Karen!!! I owe you ten!), I have a burning need to show you how cute our dog is.
Ok, so he was Brian’s dog first. But since Brian and I have been together for 4 years, Charlie the dog has known me for over half his young life. Also, I feed him, I pick up his poop, and I log hours of time walking him all over the neighborhood. And I love him to bits. LOOK HOW CUTE HE IS:
I’m just saying, how can you not love this dog? I don’t know any possible way.
Having never had a dog before, it’s been a great experience. Particularly a dog like Charlie, who is sweet, good-natured, undemanding, and wants nothing more than to be loved. It really puts things into perspective sometimes, and reminds me what is important in life. Seriously, this dog barely ever barks, waits patiently to be fed, walked, and petted and never puts up a fuss about anything. He’s a big furry ball of unconditional love.
Ok, I’m done. For now. I just wanted to share my Saturday Warm Fuzzies with you.
Next time you want to avoid answering a question, just take one of the words that was said to you, and repeat it over and over again, then wander away.
Q: “Hey, can you take the dog out?”
A: “Dog? Dog. Dog. Dog! Isn’t that a funny word? Dog. Doooog. DOG! Huh. Crazy, right? Dog…dog.” (wander away)
When you are sitting there at your desk and you think about how when you get home, you’re going to take the dog for a nice long walk, because it’s been so long since you’ve been able to do that, and it occurs to you that you should text him and let him know that.
Yeah, no. The dog doesn’t have a cell phone. If he did, he would likely have trouble texting with his little paw pads. Also, he can’t read. He’s a dog.
I need a glass of wine, stat.
How difficult can it be to find a decent looking pantsuit (or just a suit-jacket!) that doesn’t make me feel like I raided my mom’s closet?
I need to dress for a job interview, not a tea party with my favorite stuffed animals.
Is it just me, or did Target used to sell clothes that you could wear to work post-college? When did it become Boring Wet Seal? If you’re not on the debate team or going to the library to study for finals and hoping to run into that cute boy from history class, it’s USELESS.
Sigh. This is what happens to me when I start temping again. It isn’t pretty, folks.
Not to mention the fact that the dog is used to having a stay at home mom, and today I left him alone for 10 hours. Why don’t we have a cat? From my understanding, you come home to a cat and if you’re lucky it nods in your direction. The dog wraps himself around my legs while quivering in paroxysms of fear and joy.
“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!!!! Whatever I did, I’m sorry! I’m SO SORRY! AAAAUUUUGH PANT PANT PANT DROOL.” I can’t even bring myself to meet the terrible shell-shocked look that is still in his eyes.
Eight hours of data entry and no internet make Molly something-something.
Oh, right. Drink wine!
You just have to sit back with a few glasses of wine and watch “The Wedding Date” with the dog. Of course, the movie was his choice. Damn it, Charlie! I don’t need to see Debra Messing as an unlucky-in-love spinster who has to hire Durmot Mulroney as her wedding date! Oh, all right. If you insist. Another glass? Oh, I guess so. If that’s what you want. Man, Debra Messing sure is unlucky in love. When will she catch a break?
Oh, right. At the end of the movie. Well, good for her.
Brian recently developed five rolls of film that had been sitting around the house for the last three years or so. About twenty percent of those photos involved the dog reluctantly wearing clothes. Mostly socks.
I think both of us might need hobbies? or children? or medication? Or all of the above. Tell me we are not alone.
I used to think that part of what was great about walking the dog was that it gave me a chance to think, to muse, to mull over my day and ponder life in general.
I have learned that the only thing I ponder while out walking the dog, is walking the dog.
We come from different places, he and I, and we’re into very different things. Reality shows don’t interest him, he doesn’t care about music, and books leave him cold. I am ambivalent about tennis balls and I dislike sleeping on the floor. It’s surprising that we get along as well as we do.
Come to think of it though, we both love to eat my food, and find his food vaguely distasteful.