Yep.  Today I stepped in poo.  I thought the dogs were being extra stinky; little did I know there was something lurking on the floor by my side of the bed.  Here are the bad and good (if that’s possible) elements of my latest little mishap.

1. I was barefoot. – Now, this is bad because I WAS BAREFOOT!  EEEWWW!  However, my foot cleans much easier than my shoes.

2. I had left clothes on the floor. -  Bad because they were my clothes.  (I know, this should teach me not to leave them on the floor.) Good because the carpet is not only not mine, but a light color and the poo did not get on it.  Thankfully, these were t-shirts, not work clothes.

3. I stepped in it- Just me, not my brother-in-law, or his wife or my nephew.  Poo piles do not make people remember you as a good guest.  It’s probably better that it was me over Alex, too.  I’m less inclined to let it ruin my day.

4. I was too involved in cleanup to get really mad. – My dogs, therefore, still live.

So there you have it.  Not the best homecoming gift I’ve ever gotten.

Oh, well.  Could’ve been worse.

Ok.  So I got this from someone else first.  I think it’s pretty cool.

Groucho Marx- Father\’s Day

My predecessor at work must have been quite a girly-girl (not to mention several years younger than me.)  If what she left behind is any indication, my desk area must have been a veritable garden of über-cutsie delights before I arrived.  For starters, she seems to have had an obsession with colored pens.  Now, I don’t mean highlighters- which I sometimes use to color-code and mark notes to remind myself of important stuff- I mean a rainbow of fine-tipped pens.  I have no idea what she could have used them for.  I’m fairly sure my bosses don’t want to sign important documents in fuchsia or hunter green.  Perhaps she just got bored during meetings and wrote each speaker’s words in a different color.  I had a bible once with Jesus’ words in red; maybe she got the idea from that.

The mouse pad has puppies on it.  Don’t get me wrong, I like puppies.  I just don’t want a row of them on my mouse pad at work.  I don’t think it projects a very professional image.  Especially when I’m surrounded by those colored pens (not to mention the one shaped like the silhouette of Mickey Mouse.)  However, I don’t have a replacement for it, so it stays for now.  I did get rid of the flowery inspirational mini-poster.   I just can’t get excited about having a petal-tastic day first thing in the morning.

The one thing I am keeping is the squishy little bull shark she left behind.  It’s not professional either, but it is a tad more badass than the puppies.  Plus, I like to squeeze it while I’m reading long documents.  (Call me a sillykins!)  Maybe I should bring in a few personal things so the people passing by don’t think I’m a colored-pen puppy pad kind of person.  I don’t know what I’d bring, though.  Any suggestions?

Did I mention the notepads are lilac?

Sometimes, I have to admit it’s tough keeping a positive attitude; even for me.

My house hasn’t sold, despite two contracts.  There’s some investment land in Florida that will probably be foreclosed on soon, we’ve had to get rid of several of our Memphis properties, Alex still doesn’t have a job, the car just needed $900 in repairs and we continue to live in the attic.  I like my job, but it doesn’t cover the bills.  Suffice to say, I’m having a little trouble seeing the end of the bad times.

I know I just have to keep working, planning, and trying new things.  At least, in the end, I’ll have given it my best shot, even if it wasn’t good enough to keep things going.  But, jeez, why does it have to stretch out like this?

I’m amazed at how long it takes to go thorougly bust.  I’m at the point I’d rather get it all over with so I can really move forward.  It’s kind of like when you’ve got a nasty, upset stomach.  You know if you go ahead and throw up you’ll feel better, but it stinks so bad to hurk you try everything you can to prevent it.  You take medicine, meditate, breathe deeply, rub your tummy, whine to your parent/partner/pets but nothing works and all you accomplished was more discomfort.

However, I think I’ve suffered long enough.  I’m kneeling in front of the porcelain god and my hair’s out of the way.  Bring it on, I’m ready to be done.