The Honey Pot
It’s all about the presentation.
This is not my waffle.

It’s all about the presentation.

This is not my waffle.

you romantic little f*ckers
I could have been asked to prom via chalk on park trail? ugh. 
this is a seriously underused form of communication.

you romantic little f*ckers

I could have been asked to prom via chalk on park trail? ugh.

this is a seriously underused form of communication.

Blogging outfit!  (Not pictured: three top hats)

Blogging outfit!
(Not pictured: three top hats)

Yesterday I:

  • had season 1 of GofT playing during the day. I wasn’t really watching. It was more like the room was marathoning the show. Jazz did not enjoy Lady’s story ending. (It’s not like I enjoyed it. I just knew it was coming and felt awful when Jazz was startled)
  • didn’t go for a walk at the Park. On Monday I actually went by myself. I needed some air and some solitude. The activity is too much for Jazz right now. As I was walking; I couldn’t remember a time that I had walked just for myself, without a destination. I wish I had gone back to the park yesterday but instead, with the few minutes I had, I just sat alone.
  • stole clementines (for me) and Coke (for UncleDucey) from AuntPretty1 (okay. it wasn’t really stealing).
  • received my new phone. I don’t want to activate it until I have a case. I don’t even want to touch it until there is some bulk and rubberized grip to it. My last case was a lifeproof and that worked pretty well but the online store was out. idk what I’m going to do.maybe keep it in the box FOREVER.
  • set up a strategic fruit and cookie reserve
  • finished watching The Wrong Mans. the fight scene with the Jason Bourne mug might have been my favorite.
Fresh linens for the den of convalescence.
If everything goes well. Jazz needs about 2-3 more weeks of constant supervision (minimum)
one week in- I am covering approximately 22 of those hours every day. (she actually slept through the night last night. and this morning when she napped. I napped. so that’s great)
on the very bad fluffing day of 2014 (a.k.a. Saturday).  I needed a moment to change my clothes and wash my face before my dad showed up. As I walked up the stairs I said to Murble:

me: You are watching the dog, correct?
AuntMurble: Yes!

Before I was at the top of the stairs, Jazz was at her stitches, and that is going to happen some but, this happened at least three times while I was getting ready. I just wanted to cry because I’d rather just devote five full weeks to making sure she gets better than pretending I have maybe two hours a day for myself and having Jazz get worse or having her recovery time doubled (again).
And on the same day UncleDucey threw a fit and wouldn’t let me change his bandages. We snapped at each other BIG TIME. right in front of my dad. (and then I cried for like an hour. it was a rough day.)
But we found a rhythm on Sunday. And I’ve got my groove today.
giving Jazz a treatball gives me almost 15 minutes. I pulled the old linens and remade the futon. Started the laundry. Started cooking Jazz’s food. Changed UncleDucey’s bandages. Pushed it too far when I ran upstairs to do two minutes of vacuuming. As I walked back into the living room to collect Jazz she had just started to try to bite at her remaining stitches.

UncleDucey: she’s just chewing on her tail.
me: yes. her surgery was at the base of her tail
UncleDucey. oh.

Gave Jazz another treatball while I finished cooking her food. Had UncleDucey hold Jazz by The Cone while I ran to the basement to change loads of laundry.
I’ve got this. I’ve fucking got this.
I don’t trust VetDarcy. Watching her and pouring Neosporin on her opened stitches seems like a pretty sketchy plan.
There are so many ridiculous things I could say about this span of time.
whatevery. I will do my best. We will most likely get through this.
Jazz is napping and I’m having coffee ice cream and coffee for lunch.

Fresh linens for the den of convalescence.

If everything goes well. Jazz needs about 2-3 more weeks of constant supervision (minimum)

one week in- I am covering approximately 22 of those hours every day. (she actually slept through the night last night. and this morning when she napped. I napped. so that’s great)

on the very bad fluffing day of 2014 (a.k.a. Saturday).  I needed a moment to change my clothes and wash my face before my dad showed up. As I walked up the stairs I said to Murble:

me: You are watching the dog, correct?

AuntMurble: Yes!

Before I was at the top of the stairs, Jazz was at her stitches, and that is going to happen some but, this happened at least three times while I was getting ready. I just wanted to cry because I’d rather just devote five full weeks to making sure she gets better than pretending I have maybe two hours a day for myself and having Jazz get worse or having her recovery time doubled (again).

And on the same day UncleDucey threw a fit and wouldn’t let me change his bandages. We snapped at each other BIG TIME. right in front of my dad. (and then I cried for like an hour. it was a rough day.)

But we found a rhythm on Sunday. And I’ve got my groove today.

giving Jazz a treatball gives me almost 15 minutes. I pulled the old linens and remade the futon. Started the laundry. Started cooking Jazz’s food. Changed UncleDucey’s bandages. Pushed it too far when I ran upstairs to do two minutes of vacuuming. As I walked back into the living room to collect Jazz she had just started to try to bite at her remaining stitches.

UncleDucey: she’s just chewing on her tail.

me: yes. her surgery was at the base of her tail

UncleDucey. oh.

Gave Jazz another treatball while I finished cooking her food. Had UncleDucey hold Jazz by The Cone while I ran to the basement to change loads of laundry.

I’ve got this. I’ve fucking got this.

I don’t trust VetDarcy. Watching her and pouring Neosporin on her opened stitches seems like a pretty sketchy plan.

There are so many ridiculous things I could say about this span of time.

whatevery. I will do my best. We will most likely get through this.

Jazz is napping and I’m having coffee ice cream and coffee for lunch.

Greetings from the very sad interspecies picnic.

Greetings from the very sad interspecies picnic.

I tried to sneak away while Murble was taking Jazz for a little walk this afternoon. She saw me driving away and threw a fit. So, she went on a tiny outing with me today. It mostly involved her sitting in the sun on AuntPretty1’s patio. She’s exhausted.

where are my pajama pants?
oh. under the sleeping dog.
She has surgery tomorrow. should be fine. We went to the kitchen to grab a snack before her cut off for food this evening. She’d probably choose to have surgery if she knew it meant a second dinner.

where are my pajama pants?

oh. under the sleeping dog.

She has surgery tomorrow. should be fine. We went to the kitchen to grab a snack before her cut off for food this evening. She’d probably choose to have surgery if she knew it meant a second dinner.

I was going to try and mimic her serious fixed gaze but when I would reach over to her seat to point the camera at me she thought I was handing her a treat and it was just getting a bit ridiculous.

yes.

that was the moment it turned ridiculous.