I'm very sorry that this blog post is late. I was waiting for something.
Obviously, it didn't happen.
No, I don't intend to elaborate upon that.
On a related note, I suspect that I will have to revert to a thrice-weekly schedule for the foreseeable future, mainly because I spend most of my days covered in dog shit.
Allow me to explain. I currently live at home with my parents, who are in their early 70s. Since the beginning of the year, each of them has had various operations which left them unable to do their regular chores about the house. Since I'm living here without paying rent, it is my duty to play the dutiful daughter and help out whenever possible.
Let me emphasize: I have no problem with this.
The problem lies with my mother's two dogs, both of whom are old... incontinent... and all but paralyzed from the waist down. This last fact means that, when it is time for them to go outside and do their business, a sling must be put underneath their bellies. Their potty time is a perverse game of wheelbarrow, which would be funny if they didn't end up doing their business all over my feet and legs.
You see, owing to my mother's recent knee surgery, I must cart these dogs out. The larger of the two dogs 96 pounds. I have to do this a minimum of 4 times a day for each dog, and even then, they STILL manage to pee or poop in the house.
I am, quite frankly, exhausted from this constant workout. The entire house smells very strongly of urine, which isn't doing my allergies any good. Because of this, I'm not sleeping well. Between the lack of the sleep and the constant stopping of whatever I'm doing in order to attend to spoiled, insecure, and incontinent dogs -- whom I have taken to calling The Amazing Shit Machine and Princess Pee -- I can't seem to get the focus I need to write effectively.
I'm tired all the time. My arms and legs ache. I can't concentrate. I suspect it's rather like having a newborn in the house, except that there are no diapers involved.
Now, I did not tell you this to elicit sympathy. Don't tell me how you feel bad for me, etc, because frankly a Cinderella mindset will do me more harm than good. Yes, it's bad, but it's not that bad; I just need to find a way to adapt.
Adaptation, however, will take time, which is why I may miss blog posts. I can't guarantee that I'll have the time or creative energy to write something worth reading. It's my hope that with a day and a half between posts, I'll be able to cobble together something worthwhile.
And now, a bunny with a pancake on its head: