Tomorrow my pupster is going to doggy daycare for the first time because otherwise I will get all Susan Smith on him since he does things like stand on my head when I am trying to take a nap, and if there is one thing every creature should know in this world it is that you do not fuck with a student who is trying to take a nap. Being cute is not a legitimate excuse. If I kill him because my memo is stressing me out I am going to be sad about that when it is finally done and I am bored, and that is stupid. So instead I am shipping him off to wear himself out with the other psycho dogs and I feel a little sad about it. Like first day of kindergarten sad. Speaking of which, on Sunday said doggy is "graduating" from puppy training classes. There will be awards and mortarboards and by god, if there are not refreshments I am going to lash out verbally at somebody. That is a promise. Anyway, send good thoughts my way tomorrow as I pack Charlie's lunch and draw a heart in the peanut butter and send him in his new school clothes to daycare and then I will probably cry in the car both because my dog is a doofus and will most likely roll in at least three piles of excrement in one day, and also because I am fucking tired and ready for it to be vacation.
The end.
P.S. The fucking squirrels ate my motherfucking pumpkins that I put on the front porch. WHO DOES THAT?!?!?! It's official, I need a fucking BB gun...
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