Forget about it, you can’t.
NOTHING makes me feel more grateful for having a boring-ass job than reading the regular Gawker column of stories from unemployed people. It’s true that having a job gives me a sense of purpose. Everyone needs to do something with their weekdays. Kids go to school, adults go to work. Dogs go to sleep.
I’m getting tested for allergies in mid-February. I suspect I’m allergic to dogs, same as boy midget. I have eczema that will not go away, on the back of my hands and my lower legs. After I have been petting and cuddling with Pickle or Ellie, my hands feel tingly. I don’t want to think about what will happen if I need to get rid of both dogs. I can definitely live without having dogs in my house but who will take my dogs for me and love them like I do? How will I cope with never knowing what happens to them in their lives? I sort of see now why some owners have their pets put down instead of finding them new homes. Yes I’m sure that sounds morbid to my gentle reader but there it is. This here is my blog and Imma going to express m’self.
My Twitter posts have taken a decidedly hostile, sarcastic turn. I am not going to censor myself there.