I'm sorry I didn't post yesterday. I was way busy crying. Oh my god, with the weepage.
As you know, from your Big Book of June Events, I have a Fitbit, which tells me how much I slept. The night before I found Lottie, I got 8 hours. Since I found Lottie? Five hours a night. With, like, 18 restless times.
At first, I'd put her in the bed with us, but she peed in the bed twice. So then I put her in the bathroom with that giant bed, above, which takes the whole floor, and she'd cry. Then I finally got the crate down thanks to the Tall Boy, and mother of god, does she hate that crate.
Oh, she chitters, she moans, she ululates. And Edsel and I never sleep. But I figured, you know, this will pass and I'll be okay not sleeping for awhile. I mean, what else can I do?
I just washed that bed.
Anyway, so that's happening, two weeks with not really enough sleep. And then as I've said 12 times, my job is completely different now. For 19 years, I came to work, proofread something all day, and went home. Now I'm rarely at my desk--I go from one meeting to another, and it's not what I'm used to. I get meeting notices at 10 o'clock at night. It throws me off. I'm over there trying to do something intellectual and relaxing like watch Parenthood, and PING! my phone goes off, and for 15 minutes I'm thinking about work again.
So I guess I'm on edge. Plus also there's my banging, active sex life. Woooo! Thank god I have that to fall back on. Oh, wait.
But none of this seemed all that bad, till yesterday morning, when Lottie woke up way before dawn in her crate. I took outside--I see a lot of my back yard at night now. I noticed the full moon, which reminds me of Lu, because she died during the full moon. This is the second full moon without her.
When we got back in, Lottie wouldn't sleep. She cried in her crate, and jaggled the metal, and barked, and talked about a revolution. It didn't sound like a whisper.
Finally, I got her out and brought her to the bed, hoping she'd been peed out. [Puppies are never peed out. The more you know. ********]
Did you enjoy my line of asterisks for the shooting star? You're welcome. Punctuation art, by June.
Anyway, she got on the bed with me and started lunging at my face. Lunge lunge lunge. It's what she does. And if you cover your face, she bites your hands. And if you yelp and act pained, which is what you're supposed to do, she gets riled up and bites harder and growls. She is going to grow up to be Lizzie Borden. You know how Lizzie Borden liked to bite faces.
Usually, I can deal with this. But yesterday, I said, "Please stop BITING ME," and that is when I started to cry.
Both dogs just stopped in their tracks. Lottie turned her head sideways.
I thought maybe I'd cry for awhile, because tired and stressed, but no. I cried till 7, when the alarm went off. Then I made coffee and cried, took a shower and REALLY cried because I was out of soap. How the fuck do you run out of fucking soap? I had to use liquid hand soap from the sink.
Then I got dressed and cried, and as I drove to work, I said, Well, I'd better stop crying now. Cause, work.
When I pulled in, someone from HR was getting out of her car, too. Okay, this was good. No way could I cry in front of her.
I ended up looking down and walking briskly so she wouldn't see me.
IT WAS RIDICULOUS. I could not stop weeping. I had a meeting right away, but one of my coworkers, who I am also friends with, Molly, saw me and hid me behind the whiteboard in the back of the room. There's a little table there. She asked what was wrong, and really, what was wrong? Not that much. Just a little sleep deprivation and menopause and work stress. I mean, everyone has that kind of stuff. Right?
She's in a phase right now where her head seems too big for her body, like she's in one of those big-head parades.
I forgot to tell you that that one day, remember that one day? When I asked what your parade would be? I think I said baby cats. Like, baby leopards and so on. Anyway, you all answered me as well. I asked my boss, fmr., and he said, "I'd want to see a parade where balloons are marching, and on a string they have people floating."
Who thinks like that? I kind of loved that answer.
Anyway, my weeping. Molly told me I didn't have to go to that first meeting of the day, which I'm sure would have gone well, me at it constantly crying like a miraculous Virgin Mary, so I just sat with my laptop behind the white board and answered emails and in an hour I had stopped.
I have no idea what that was all about, but people at work who have actual human babies said they were wrecks when they didn't sleep right. So.
After work, I took L and Eds on a "walk," which, with Lottie, is more of a sweep of the sidewalk. Across one lawn, under Edsel, across the other lawn, under Edsel, till Edsel's trussed up like a chicken. The point is, you know those circulars you get in your driveway? They're in a plastic bag like you're getting a newspaper but they're just full of coupons or whatever, asks the fiscal gal. You know those things?
YES, June, we got it. God.
At every driveway, Lottie would pick up that family's circular and carry it to the next driveway, where she'd drop it and pick up THAT circular. So, Dear Neighborhood: Everyone has everyone else's circular. The circular of life. Boom.
Say circular one more time.
So I guess I'm done crying now. Lottie, however, is just getting started on being a teensy wrinkly-headed asshole.