It's the little things

The last few weeks at work have been insane. I have a deadline coming up for a major proposal early next week. It's a totally cool project but also incredibly complex - involving more than 15 major partners and an almost $700,000 budget with multiple subcontractors and in-kind cost sharing. Trying to explain the whole thing in 25 pages is nigh on impossible and has been made more difficult by the fact that the two leaders of the project are like oil and water in terms of their working styles. On top of all this, I have a major report and a proposal that I just haven't been able to get to, more than 15 students interested in applying for Fulbrights, class is starting, and all manner of insanity.

Needless to say, I am a little stressed out. I am tired but suffering from insomnia. My back hurts. My hip hurts. And all I can see are things that need to be done - mowing the lawn, the garden, sweeping, cleaning the bathroom etc etc....

Anyway, there is a shitstorm of crap that is swirling around my general area and an implosion was imminent. It happened last night.

Now, dear readers will know that I am more of a feline than a canine person. That being said, the boxer is a nice dog. Big and smelly and clumsy, yes, but usually endearing. But it has been hard adjusting to living with a dog. For example, it is practically impossible to go away for a weekend, especially on short notice. Cats watch themselves; dogs need sitters or boarding kennels. If we take him with us, it can be hard to find a dog-friendly hotel. And really, how much fun would a dog have sleeping in the back of a car for hours on end? We couldn't even go into a restaurant in the summer because the dog can't come in and it is a death sentence to leave him in the car.

And did I mention that he is big and smelly and clumsy?

Now, the boxer has taken a major shine to me. When I come home from work he practically does somersaults of joy. If I happen to get home before Boxer and am napping on the couch, the boxer barks at Boxer when he comes home. The boxer also likes to sleep on the floor near my side of the bed. Now, this wasn't a huge deal at first because he slept a lot towards the end of the bed, and, although I get up a gazillion times a night, I knew I could swing my legs over, stand up, and then slowly nudge him out of the way. Nudge, nudge, nudge.

Recently, however, he has started sleeping in ever varying places along my side of the bed, including half under the bed with just his front shoulders and head sticking out. Twice, earlier this week, I stepped on him while getting up. Once, I tripped over him and fell down while coming back to bed. Last night, I was reading on the bed and my leg slipped off the edge and wonked the boxer in the head, whereupon he yelped and nipped at me.

Now, I don't blame him. If I accidently kicked me, I would probably yelp and nip me as well. But everything has just been too much lately and that was the last straw. I put my head down on my reading material and sobbed. Boxer got busy rubbing my back and telling me it will be ok and I just really wanted to die or for everyone to just go the hell away. I went into the bathroom and washed my face and all those feelings disapated, but the initial moment was very difficult.

I am so thankful that Boxer is patient. And we are working hard on figuring how to handle the boxer, because I will no doubt step on him again and it not only makes me feel like a shit, but eventually I could hurt him and then he will hurt me. I am glad that I am centered enough to know that all my reactions to things are overly ramped up right now because I have reached critical exhaustion. But it is hard; and it's the little things that are the hardest. I guess all you can really do is manage each one, one at a time.....