Bad Dog, Bad Wife
It's a stormy day here and, as I gaze out the window at the canopy of trees, I'm surprised at the various shades of green. It's a visual feast. I thought I'd better write now, because the black mood may be arriving any minute now. So far, I'm just feeling what's come to be my regular level of dissociation. Tell me anything. I won't be moved. I'm watching you from a distance and all is comfortably numb.
Hubby is taking a pre-employment, pre-interview test today with a company that published one of his books. Can't remember which one, though. Does that make me a bad wife? We have no idea what it pays; that seems to be all the rage with companies. Surely you'd like to waste your time applying for a job that, after the first interview, you'll find out the salary sucks and you have absolutely no interest whatsoever in even finishing the interview.
He would be happier in this job than the current job, but that's not really high on my list of priorities. Not like, for instance, replacing my Barney Rubble car. I've been in a funk about my own job this week, so I'm simply not very sympathetic about his distaste for his current job. Life's a bitch, now get on with things.
Andy the Demon Dog continues to beat me up every night. I have bruises all the way up both of my arms and about ten on my left thigh. That's mysterious; I have no idea why it's only that thigh. I made an appointment with his vet for Monday, but they called me back to tell me the doctor won't be in on Monday. Good god, don't they realize that by Tuesday I could just be a carcass lying in my living room? There's no time to waste here.
I'm sure all that's needed is an obedience class for me, with Andy along, of course. The Humane Society has one, but it's a six week class that costs $100. For two of the weekends I'll be out of town dealing with breast cancer. Of course, those two classes will be the ones that focus on keeping your dog from gnawing one of your fingers off. I just don't see paying the cash for a couple of sessions while he's at my house, tearing up the sofa.
Aside from work, I've been spending most of my free time reading the Primo Levy biography. I'm about 3/4 of the way finished, so when my mind isn't otherwise occupied, I'm obsessing about what to read next. I have to obsess about something, you know. Better this than how much I weighed 15 minutes ago and whether I need to go weigh again. I've been trying to branch out into fiction more, but I just bought another non-fiction book, so who knows.
One more thing before I go. I ate two cookies last night and a baked potato. Oh wait. Had to reschedule Andy's appointment until next Wednesday at 6:00 p.m. Perfect way to end my day. If I make it that long. If you don't hear from me before then, I'm probably just missing two or three of my fingers and can't type. Must be time for more cookies.
posted by: bronwynj (reply)
post date: 03.31.07 (8:25 pm)
Why can't your husband take your dog to obedience school? Does your dog bite your husband? If not, why not? What does your husband do differently? Does your dog think that he or your husband is the leader of the pack, & that you are the lowly underling? If so, why? Do you allow your dog to go through the doors or gates ahead of you? Do you allow your dog to be physically higher than you at any time? Do you feed your dog before you feed yourself? When your dog bites, do you snarl "No!" at him loudly in a low rough voice? If your dog jumps up at you, do you quickly turn your back on him?
I think if you feel the need to obsess, obsess about having fun & pleasure in your life! :-)
posted by: ggirl (reply)
post date: 04.02.07 (9:07 am)
Obsessing about fun and pleasure. Yeah, that sounds much better than my current obsessions.
The Demon Dog does bite my husband, but not as much because when my husband is around, Andy sleeps a lot. I have maintained (in every other way) my alpha dog status. I go first, eat first, etc. I require that he sit before he gets his food, before he goes out, etc. I think part of the problem is that he's not getting enough exercise.
My husband take Andy to the vet? He could, but when he gets back, he won't have paid enough attention to tell me what the vet said. Or I'll have questions that didn't occur to him to ask (like any questions at all).
