Wet spots, body hair and evil farts. Also, snot.

So, it's a little after midnight and I have forsaken my cozy, warm bed for the icy cold living room full of slobbery dog toys and wet spots that may or may not be puppy pee (they usually are).

Why? Because I'm awake. Fully awake. Also, I'm full of snot. Have you missed my glamour and lady-like-ness? I thought you might.

I'm not full of snot because I have a cold. Although, that would be a logical conclusion, considering that MB keeps the house at a nice, comfortable arctic temperature in the winter. Just because he has a lot of...you know, I was going to make a body hair joke here but I thought better of it.

Love you, MB.

Anyway, I'm full of snot because I was kinda crying in bed. Not because of the cold. It's because today is December 29 and exactly 4 months ago, we put our Skye girl to sleep.



I know. Here she goes blabbering on about her dead dog again. Blah blah blah. Well, just shutup. I miss my dead dog. Considering how much of a sniveling sentimental crazy person I am, I think I've dealt with the death of my girl in a very healthy manner.

I've maintained my status as a functioning member of society and everything. There are just those little moments where all of the emotion of those last two days with her just creep up on me. When that happens, I get a little weepy.

It also happens when I dust. I have to gently pick up her little box of ashes in order to clean the bookshelf and it always ends in tears. I've told MB that I need a maid for this very reason (and many others), but he's not buying it.

It's like he's made of stone.

Which he isn't. Those last days with her were just raw and emotional for both us. We both have those weepy moments. Mine are more frequent, but there's no judgement here people.

So, tonight I started replaying that final day in my head as I was trying to fall asleep to dreams of George Clooney...I mean, my handsome hubby.

Love you, MB.

Flashes of that day just kept invading my brain, resulting in tears on my pillow and snot in my nose. The sniffling became more like snorting and I decided to relocate for the sake of my marriage. No one wants to be married to a snorter.

Plus, my new Kindle (Christmas present from my awesome hubby!) was on the shelf and it makes this weird noise randomly. By randomly, I mean approximately every 17 seconds. It sounds like it's hissing. Wtf?!

I left it for MB to enjoy and plopped myself on the sofa. Of course, Atticus follows me absolutely everywhere (even the bathroom - it's awkward) so he is here beside me. He is now making weird noises. Maybe I have this effect on things.

Usually it's some sort of gassy noise with Atticus. Either he is farting or his tummy is rumbling and preparing to fart. He's all boy, that one. .

By the way, he's getting really big.



See? He's almost too big for me to pick up and spoil. Almost. My chiropractor would argue that he's past that point, but what does she know. Crooked schmooked.

Is it wrong that I want to gorge myself on peanut butter cups? I totally just typed bups because my glasses are so effed up. Atticus got to them and now I have to view the world through teeth marks.

I love puppies.

Maybe I'll just indulge in some ice water. I am still recovering from our Annual Birthday Bar Hop that took place last night. MB and I share a birthday (gag me, I know) and we have hosted this event every year since he turned 30. I'll have to come back tomorrow and tell you about that debauchery.

For now, I'm going to hide the peanut butter bups, grab some ice water and watch Bones episodes on netflix until I fall asleep. I might also slip Atticus some antacids. Holy hell! Whatever is coming from his rear is just evil. Pure stinky evil.

Good night, peeps. We'll talk tomorrow. :)