I am absolutely positive.
I'm going crazy.
In addition to feeling like crap, every time I try to sit down and attempt to write a post, I have to hop up and see what the puppy is into. I've pretty much given up on the pine green upholstered chair sitting in our living room -- let him chew it up if it gives me ten minutes of peace.
And bodily functions, I'm sick to death of trying to keep track of his peeps and poops every minute I'm home. He's already peed at least five times and pooped four times on my watch in the house and it's only been two and half weeks!
The kids try -- when they're home. The husband's a real trooper -- when he's home. However, I'm a guilt-ridden, house-bound nutjob with a (probably typical) puppy that's pushing me to the edge.
Even though this may not be as bad as sleepless nights harboring sore and cracked nursing nipples -- it's getting pretty damned close!
I wanted so bad to write about the drama of my fourteen year old getting her contact lenses last night ...
Couldn't. Had to freeze my butt off while waiting for one of the dog's innumerable bowel movements to occur.
I wanted to post an inquiry to you all, my blogging pals, about writing styles and ask you questions about how you deal with plagiarism
Couldn't. I had to clean up yet another doggy mess.
I wanted to chat about this morning's MarketPlace report regarding the U.S. economy and how the Europeans are flipping out about it.
Couldn't. I have to retrieve large fluffy stuffing from out of my puppy's mouth.
I wanted to post a nifty little poem about autumn and the endless chore of leaf raking.
Couldn't. Damned dog has figured out how to knock over the safety gate and bust through to the other side.
I desperately want to indulge in this mentally liberating activity of thinking, writing and sharing ...
But I can't ...
because my brain can't form coherent thoughts when I'm always worrying about the dog.