kicking me when I'm down

Isn't it funny how when you're down, life always seems to find a way to kick you?  And then again?

I have had the shittiest of almost all shitty weeks.

And its only Wednesday.

All of my seven followers (bless you for sticking with me here) probably read last week that I've been having friend problems. I know, I know, everyone has these problems. But it still sucks. And this is pretty much my journal, so you all get to read about my problems... no matter how trivial or repeated they may be.

Back to this week.

So Friday night I hit up happy hour with some of my book club ladies for some farewell drinks. You may remember one of our ladies is moving away. So a few hours roll by, and I make the brilliant of most brilliant decisions... and yada yada yada... well... Let's just say the police and I took a little ride together.

Seriously.

FUCK.

I'm still kicking myself, but trying to stay strong and deal with whatever comes my way with grace. I deserve what I deserve.

The crappiest part is that this is the second time I've done this... classy and brilliant I know... and may lose my license for three years.

So I've been freaking out about, MOSTLY, not being able to get to work. I work two jobs, in a town 22 miles away. There are no direct bus routes. And Mr. man work in a town in the opposite direction. Not to mention that I have to be AT WORK at 6 am, and he doesn't leave until 7:30... so yeah. Stress. All my fault and totally deserved stress, but still fucking stress.

THEN.

Oh you thought that was the punch line? Oh no, it gets better.

Monday, (yes two whole days later) I have to put my dog to sleep.

Yeah.

Fuck this shit.

My poor Murphy dog who, granted, is 15 years old, has not been doing well. Finally Sunday he decided he was done eating. I tried everything, wet food, people food, whatever. He wouldn't take it. Plus he wouldn't get up to eat, or go outside. I helped him get up against his will, he walked and go a drink of water and then slowly went and laid down again. Monday morning I had my mom check on his mid-morning when I was at work. She called and said he had fallen by the front door, couldn't get up, was crying and had peed himself. Poor poor baby. I knew it was time.

Of course, I found all this out at work.

I called the vet to make an appointment, during my shift WAITING TABLES, and she asks me, in the sweetest, softest, nicest voice possible, "So just to clarify, would like to make an appointment for a Euthenization?"

BURST. INTO. TEARS.

"Yes" I said, Trying to compose myself.

When I got home an hour later, he was there by the door. Clearly miserable. Clearly in pain. Clearly ready to go. I sat with him until my mom got there. He was shaking and just looking at me... with those "mom please help me it hurts" eyes. Ugghhh. I cried and tried to keep him comfortable.

That thirty minutes was probably the longest of my life. But it helped let me know that I was making the right decision. I still didn't want to get up, even when we carried him to the car... he really didn't fight.

I'll spare you the details of taking him into the vets office and staying with him through the whole ordeal... Which I'm totally glad I did, because I think it helped HIM more then it hurt me.

So yeah..... Shittest. Week. Ever.

I keep waiting for something else miserable to happen... They always come in threes... hit me life... HIT ME!

Honestly my only saving grace is that I'm heading to Las Vegas on Friday. (Thank God I was home for poor Murphy and this all didn't happen when I was gone.) I'm so looking forward to just getting away and NOT THINKING for a few days.

So yeah...

Upon my return, I'll be doing some serious personal reflection, and probably doing some revamping of my life.

RIP old friend

xoxo,

McGriddle Pants