Happy to be here« an older post

Eight more years...

Only eight more years to go. Eight more years. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Eight.

I am so tired of:

  • the barking
  • the whining
  • getting pushed out of bed by a dog
  • being unable to have sex in my own bed because there's a dog between the two of us
  • the licking sounds (there's nothing in your crotch, dog!)
  • the open wound on the leg
  • the whining
  • the hovering whenever I'm in the kitchen
  • the staring while I'm sitting in the bathroom
  • butt wipes on my brand spanking new rug
  • being unable to head out of town on a whim because we have to find someone to take care of them
  • imposing on friends to take care of them
  • the whining
  • the upturned trashcans
  • the $400 a month dog food bills
  • the emergency room runs
  • the $300 a month veterinary bills
  • finding dog hairs in my underwear
  • finding dogs eating my underwear

I know Kris loves these dogs, but they are driving me insane. He's not home with these monsters 22 hours a day. Dog, shut the fuck up!