I woke up this morning and glanced in the mirror. This is what was looking back at me:
Problem is all he said was “Going down” Shouldn’t he ask me if I want to go up or down? Stupid elevator dog… What is sad is that inside I feel like this:
Yes. I feel like a little girl in a cartoon. I know I’m sounding like a typical aging person. And this makes me want to cry. Because how I feel confirms I am getting old. “Getting“. See any traces of denial there? Droopy cheeks. That’s the new me. A sad sad looking cartoon character with droopy cheeks.
Now. If a dog WAS to look back at me in the mirror, why can’t it be this dog?
Super Underdog! Watching over you to rescue you! What the heck am I doing? Ever meet any woman WANTING to be compared to a dog?
A black lab ran up to me the other day. I cuddled him and immediately starting cooing “Oh look at you, yeah, you’re a nice boy, yeah. Good boy, good-good boy!” And a woman yelled out “It’s a SHE!” Really? You think your dog cares if I call him a boy? Run home and cry? “Look at me! I’m a PAT! Nobody can tell I’m a girl! I’m a hideous monster! Waaaaannnhhhh!”
For those of you with a regular job: HAPPY FRIDAY! I remember when Fridays meant something meaningful. Fridays always meant something wonderful. The final arrival of a 2-day vacation. I’m not that old that I forgot what this day meant… And I care enough about you to be happy for you…