Downer Monday

***WARNING **** Emotional post ****** Don't read if you want to be happy *******

So it’s Monday and I’m not sure what all I want to say. So here’s a blog from the irrational gut:

I was sick all Sunday with anxiety of the hubster leaving for his trip. I shouldn’t be, but apparently I couldn’t turn my damn brain off. So I got a little scared that I was having that feeling right before something really bad happens. So I cleaned the house. I had to keep my brain focused on something other than hyperventilating. He got there ok. But the feeling hasn’t gone away. I guess the evil monster of the past resurfaces sometimes and I can’t seem to kick his ass back down to the depths he belongs in. The last time someone left for any length of time they never came back. I have complete faith in the hubster, I guess it’s myself I don’t have that much faith in. I’m not sure. Like I said, this is coming from the irrational part of me.

To make matters worse I had some McDonalds for lunch. Now I am actually sick to my stomach. Sheesh. That was a very stupid thing to do.

I’m also having serious anxiety over the pup we might bring home. Ok, here’s the story:
Last year I fell in love with a puppy on petfinder. She was another puppy mill rescue and she stole my heart. But I had to go out of town for several weeks so I put her future with me in fate’s hands. And sure enough she was adopted while I was away. My Aunt felt really bad that I wasn’t going to get her. I joked with my Aunt that maybe she’ll end up like Sophie and be returned. And damned if she wasn’t. Only when the shelter got a hold of her again they paired her with another dog so it became a two for one issue. And that would bring our dog count up to 4. Which is just too many. So, I put her out of my mind and stopped looking. Well, I stopped seriously looking. Then of course along came Cora. She’s darling. And we know what to do with her to bring out her puppy goodness. So on the eve of calling her foster mom and telling her we want her I find myself with a sick stomach and an aching heart. Total lb’s of the two dogs: 21 total lb’s of Cora: 21.
So, really the weight of dog in the house wouldn’t change right? But then I feel bad about Cora. She’s darling. And she needs a home too. So then I think about the fact that when we were meeting her 3 different people came up to see her. Not my lil Sophie dog, her. They thought she was the cutest thing. The store manager of the Petco we met at sat down on the sidewalk with us and talked to her and petted her. He thought she was awesome. Again, no one payed attention to my dog. And her Foster mom mentioned that she’s never even been to an adoption event. So part of me thinks maybe we should go for the 4 dog situation. I mean, truly my heart has always been with that other lil pup. For a year now. But then I feel like a horrible person for rejecting Cora. And I know Cora would be a great addition to the family and she would do well. ARGH! I’m damned either way I think. And is it fair to adopt Cora while I still pine for a different dog. And right now I can convince myself that Cora will be adopted the first time she goes to an adoption event. But what if she isn’t. What if a year from now I look and she is still listed. Then how bad would I feel? And no, I can’t bring the count up to 5. We’d have to move…………………..

Dang, this is quite the bummer post. All doom and gloom. Sheesh. I just don’t know what to do. And I miss my hubster. And that REALLY doesn’t help. The problem with having a best friend/soul mate is that no matter how strong I am as an individual, I am that much stronger with him by my side. So when he’s gone I feel sorta half alive.

So I guess I need to do some more house cleaning. The more I clean the less I can think. And then tonight I’ll talk to him about the pup stuff. And see what he thinks. And maybe he can talk me out of whatever I’m thinking.

I really shouldn’t have had McDonalds for lunch……………….

Where did I put those Tums??????

Well, so long and thanks for all the fish. I promise a happier post tomorrow.