Ever Feel Like This?

This is a pretty good depiction of me in January.  The whole month pretty much sucked.  And most of it was due to sickness.  Not my own, but Amy's morning sickness.  Yes, yes, we are with child.  Anyway, we've been through this twice before, but I swear it wasn't this bad.  Amy has just been lying in a puddle of her own drool for most of the year.  And I've had to do a lot more around the house.  And there's no throwing the boys (who are the people responsible for most of the Ground Zero our house has become) into the backyard to play, because it's winter and we just have to be, like, responsible parents.  It's such a crock.  I feel bad because I haven't risen to the occasion willingly.  I have made some strides with my business, but my mood has been foul, and I'm past ready to get this behind us, but fear that February will be more of the same.  So here and now, I'm vowing to at least make myself better.  Crossfitting regularly to get into shape (which I am finally motivated for now that I've fallen in love with basketball again), waking up at 6:30 on weekdays, and I might even start blogging on a regular basis.  Today is actually one year since I started this thing, and this is my 54th post, which isn't awful, but I had only done nine in the past six months.  I am amazed I even have 4-5 followers anymore.

On the bright side...

We dumped our dog.  I know, it sounds cruel to take such delight in it, but anyone who ever met Ike knows that he's super-needy, to the point that he had become like an unwanted child. He was basically dumped in our laps when we bought our house, and the thought of having a dog was really fun for a while.  He was great at playing and lap-sitting.  But the last month we had him, I could barely restrain myself from getting medieval on him.  Not a good thing.  I really tortured myself over it, feeling like a failure because I've always been such a dog-lover, yet had such strong impulses to punt the wiener dog, and thought dumping him would be a failure, like a divorce from a valued family member.  I felt guilty about never falling in love or bonding strongly with him.  The only conclusion I can come to is that getting a pet, for me, has to be a conscious decision, unless we're talking about one charming mothereffing pig. (Those of you who have seen Pulp Fiction may appreciate this).  In almost a year and a half, Ike never calmed down or shut up, was constantly pestering and begging, and couldn't handle being by himself.  I assume the breed has a lot to do with it, something we didn't research until after we had him.  The original owners dumped him for the same reason, but I always figured we could accommodate his needs and that he'd be a welcome addition.  He is now four years old and has bounced around to at least three different homes.  I wish him well, but also say good riddance. I'm taking the next three years off to concentrate solely on my other demanding creatures, and then we'll see what happens.  At any rate, see you again soon with another survey or amusing anecdote.