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In further, "there ought to be a German word for this," there ought to be a German word for that feeling of helpless rage and desire for violence but no actual reasonable outlet for violence when something falls and makes a mess, but it happens through your own fault. This brought to you by my trying to juggle purse, keys, book, other bag, container of dinner leftovers, Wild Cherry Slurpee, and phone through the door to make it home in time for Game of Thrones, and watching the slurpee go tumbling off the top of the heap and splatter on the blue and white rug at the front door. (It was a very patriotic mess.)
Then, of course, as I was trying to rinse red Slurpee reside off it at the sink, water went everywhere on the kitchen floor. The natural instinct is to kick something, but there is very little to kick in a spilled Slurpee. That's why I need a long,complicated German word I can howl at the sky in rage, in order that I not kick a hole in the wall instead.
I did not kick a hole in the wall, but it was a near thing.
Went with my parents to meet the new potential dog; he's now living with them for a two week trial. Not a pure dachshund, though you can tell there was at least a lengthy illicit liaison with one in his family tree. Looks a bit like a cross between a terrier and a dachshund. Cute little bugger, and he warmed up to me pretty quickly-- crawled into my lap when we got him home and made dreadful faces of delight during his belly rubs. I dunno, though. It feels pretty soon for me, and that was kind of a lot of heartbreak to go through with the previous dog. It probably shouldn't matter that much because again, he's not going to be my dog necessarily, but I'm 99% sure I'm the one who's going to get tapped to take care of him whenever my parents are out of town, so. I suppose we'll see how this trial period goes with him and the parents.
I'm sure I sound overwrought about the whole dog thing, but this was the first time this ever happened to me. I never did this before; I was strictly fish and turtles and lizards before this, which did not tug at the heartstrings as hard when they died. (Well, the turtle hasn't died at all. The damn turtle is at least twenty five years old, and is probably going to outlive us all. He will be hanging out with Keith Richards after the apocalypse occurs.) It probably didn't help that my dog needed to be put to sleep happened at the same time a lot of other really shitty things happened, but it still felt like getting sucker punched.
I finally finished Pat Barker's "Noonday" which I had been saving for a time I could sit down and read it in a longer go. Still digesting it. I liked it, but my immediate feeling is that it's the weakest of the trilogy. Maybe more thoughts on that later.
Then, of course, as I was trying to rinse red Slurpee reside off it at the sink, water went everywhere on the kitchen floor. The natural instinct is to kick something, but there is very little to kick in a spilled Slurpee. That's why I need a long,complicated German word I can howl at the sky in rage, in order that I not kick a hole in the wall instead.
I did not kick a hole in the wall, but it was a near thing.
Went with my parents to meet the new potential dog; he's now living with them for a two week trial. Not a pure dachshund, though you can tell there was at least a lengthy illicit liaison with one in his family tree. Looks a bit like a cross between a terrier and a dachshund. Cute little bugger, and he warmed up to me pretty quickly-- crawled into my lap when we got him home and made dreadful faces of delight during his belly rubs. I dunno, though. It feels pretty soon for me, and that was kind of a lot of heartbreak to go through with the previous dog. It probably shouldn't matter that much because again, he's not going to be my dog necessarily, but I'm 99% sure I'm the one who's going to get tapped to take care of him whenever my parents are out of town, so. I suppose we'll see how this trial period goes with him and the parents.
I'm sure I sound overwrought about the whole dog thing, but this was the first time this ever happened to me. I never did this before; I was strictly fish and turtles and lizards before this, which did not tug at the heartstrings as hard when they died. (Well, the turtle hasn't died at all. The damn turtle is at least twenty five years old, and is probably going to outlive us all. He will be hanging out with Keith Richards after the apocalypse occurs.) It probably didn't help that my dog needed to be put to sleep happened at the same time a lot of other really shitty things happened, but it still felt like getting sucker punched.
I finally finished Pat Barker's "Noonday" which I had been saving for a time I could sit down and read it in a longer go. Still digesting it. I liked it, but my immediate feeling is that it's the weakest of the trilogy. Maybe more thoughts on that later.
