So earlier this morning, I got a phone call from a guy I work with – he asked me to cancel his training scheduled for this afternoon, as he had a DOG emergency he had to attend to. I was all, “Sure, no problem!”, but I was thinking, “What the hell is D.O.G.? He can’t mean the only D.O.G. I know. Another fucking acronym I’m supposed to memorize and understand. [grumble grumble grumble]”. Then he continues, “Yeah, I’ve had him for ten years – he wasn’t himself this morning, so I came back home to check on him, and now he can’t walk, so I’m going to take him to the emergency vet clinic.” And then I felt like a dumbass: One, for not realizing that he meant DOG as in a canine companion, and not another one of the endless list of acronyms I use on a daily basis; Two, for mentally griping when history shows that I am a big wussy sucker over my own pets.
I’m sorry, Doug – please go take care of your puppy. Give him a good belly rub from me, and tell him I said “Who’s a good boy? Yes, him’s a goooood booooy…”

*******
I have ten things on my To-Do List for the rest of this week, over half of which are odious, several-monotonous-hours-worth of crap that I’ve been putting off, because I just couldn’t deal. And I still Can’t Deal. Most of the time it’s for the better that I work in an open, 6-person cubicle – guilt keeps me busy (or at least busy-looking, like right now as I’m typing this post). But there are times when I need to focus and buckle down and Get Some Shit Done, but my little squirrel brain keeps getting distracted – “Hey, cookies next door! And wait, is that thunder? Better check the radar online, or look out the window to see if it’s getting dark. The windows at home need to be cleaned – wait, make a list of Things To Do this weekend. Oh wait, we should hang out with M and E this weekend – email her and see what they’re doing Friday night. Oh wait, I was supposed to email that guy about that meeting on Friday. Oh wait, Friday – I’ve go to leave early for a doctor’s appointment – shit, I should call and reconfirm that. Oh damn, I think my new insurance card is somewhere in that pile of mail at home. I need to organize that when I get home tonight. Wait, what am I gonna cook for dinner? I should stop at the store on the way home. Hmmm, what else do we need? Eggs…bread…milk…”, and on and on and on and OH MY GOD BRAIN PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP. See, now I’ve wasted 3 more minutes describing to you my minute-by-minute though process for a typical workday.

Sometimes I honestly think I’ve got mild ADD or something. I clean my house following the same logic as above – I have at least 3 or 4 different chores going at the same time. I’ll start some towels in the washer, I’ll spray the tub with cleaner and let it soak, I’m loading the dishwasher, I’m sorting laundry – a little bit more each time I pass through the bedroom. I need to find a Bad Doctor to get me some Ritalin or something.

Adderrall is the only substance I’ve ever taken that was not prescribed to me. And get this, it was when I was in college, to study for a final exam. La-da-dee-da-dee, Gin likes to party!

It’s now 4 o’clock, and I will tackle the two quickest and easiest tasks on my list, so I can leave soon and feel like I have actually gotten something accomplished, and give myself a gold star for the day.

Oh, and one more thing - remember how I was all feeling guilty about going, like, a week not posting here, or something? Well, I checked my personal blog, and realized that it was coming up on an ENTIRE MONTH that I hadn't posted. And that made me feel like shit, because although you all are lovely, my other blog is for my very close friends, and I'd totally been ignoring them. So you should feel the Post Love. Or something.