Stressed Out and Banged Up

So, I'm not losing weight too fast--me weighing 140 pounds yesterday morning was just a fluke of a long weekend. I weighed 142 this morning and that's pretty healthy. I repeat, I am not losing weight "too fast"--I do not need to be shot.

Also I am very tired of taking care of Monica's pets, and it's only been one day. Monica is an elementary school music teacher. She is, possibly, the least dominant person I know. Her pets run roughshod over her--although I don't think cats can possibly be dominated anyway, because they're too ignorant or too apathetic to learn cause and effect. (If I do this, she'll yell at me--therefore I won't do this anymore. Right.) Dogs, at least, react when you yell. But her dog doesn't even react much--except to hunker down and look as small as possible, and lose all brain functions. This is okay, although I'd prefer less of a "fear turns me to jelly" attitude, but what's worse it that I am entirely unused to the idea of a dog that doesn't come when you call it! At the very LEAST this dog should come when I call her in the house. Titan comes running when I call in the house because he's hoping he might get fed. Katie won't even come in the house, and she hates to go outside, which also frustrates me because Titan ALWAYS wants to go out, and I'm annoyed having to spend my time coaxing Katie to go OUTSIDE, as in, a place that dogs should naturally want to go. It seems to me like she's too stupid to act on her natural bodily functions, which really makes me surprised that she remembers to breathe.

Wow, I'm in a really, really, bitchy mood. This is partly because yesterday, when I was coaxing Katie to go outside, and I was bending down to pet her, Titan tried to stick his head in to get petted, only he was running a little too fast to stop and...
WHAM. Head butted me in my eye so hard that I fell down and saw stars, and immediately started to bawl, much like I can imagine Kristy did when she ran full-tilt into the wall. Picture this for a second: I've just come home and changed into a little denim skirt, but I'm still in my work clothes on top. I'm laying out full on my back on my dirty concrete patio and howling to beat the band. Katie is standing there, still stubborn, and taking every opportunity she can to sneak back into the house without peeing, so I'm alternating bawling and yelling at her, which sounds sort of like this:

"BOO-HOO HOO, OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH THIS HURTS--KATIE, COME BACK HERE! COME, YOU STUPID DOG! COME!" (Katie doesn't respond to "come", of course, so I have to run up and drag her back into the yard.) "BOO HOO HOO, OW, BOO HOO," (softer, trying a different approach,) "Katie, come on, girl! Who's a good girl?" Titan, who had originally skedaddled when I started yelling, is attracted by my soft tones and comes running over, so then I have to go back to shouting, "NO, TITAN! LIE DOWN!" "BOO HOO, I'M IN SO MUCH PAIN!" "It's okay, Katie, who's a good girl?" "NO, TITAN, NOT YOU! LIE DOWN!" "BOO-HOO-HOO!"

And so forth. I swear to you I almost beat them all into a bloody pulp and then opened the back gate, hoping that they'd take off for parts unknown and I'd never have to see any pets again ever. I refrained, called my mother (always a good choice) who tried to calm me down over the phone, and eventually I fed the dogs outside and shut them out there for a few minutes, let Figaro out to run around the house (the cat, who's a nonstop yowler, often making it difficult for me to hear my mother over me crying and Figaro yowling), weighed myself about 5 times, opened the refrigerator door 14 times, paced around the house 11 times, and chugged a glass of wine with three aspirin, and then hung up with my mother, left the dogs outside, left Figaro loose in the house, and ran out to my car to make my tutoring appointment, because everything above happened in the space of fifteen minutes. And my life went on--I had to be somewhere.

Side note: the wine and aspirin kicked in and I had just been hit hard in the head, and unsurprisingly enough, it was very hard to tutor--I didn't have a single neuron firing in the right order, and I don't think the Diet Red Bull I was drinking helped at all.

But on the plus side, it did make it VERY hard to go to sleep later. Going to sleep at midnight and waking up at 4:30 is just not healthy.