I'm still being held captive in my basement at gunpoint.
By my life.
I blamed it on my hub and my kids and my students, but my life is the real mastermind behind the whole plot to keep me from blogging my brains out.
(Admittedly I made up the million dollar ransom part to make a quick buck.)
(And anyway, we don't have basements in Hawaii)
(Oh, and my hub cleaned the whole garage by himself yesterday) (while I sat chained at gunpoint in the basement.))
(That is if we had basements in Hawaii that is where I would have been sitting chained at gunpoint).
I haven't even had a chance to send out all of my thank you notes for your birthday wishes and your puppy prayers.
Your prayers were sort of answered. In mysterious ways.
I've been granted visitation rights of my puppy.
That is to say his 10 year old owner brings her over to visit. I'm like her grandma now. I get to borrow and babysit my puppy and give her jerky treats, but it's a package deal. The owner visits too. And she yakity yak yak's my eardrums off. I hate to say it, but it's kind of testing my puppy lub.
Is this the puppy and owner I want to spend the rest of my life with? It's such a big commitment. And can my eardrums take it? (what's left of them).
I do lub the puppy though. And she gets so excited to see me. It's so charming how she wags her tail madly and bites my face off.
I'm a puppy lub virgin, but I'm thinking puppy lub is a lot like people lub.
At first it's just you and your puppy and that's all that matters. Lub is all you need. Lub conquers all. Lub lifts you up where you belong.
But what goes up must come down.
It gradually dawns on you that behind every good puppy is a previous owner who raised that puppy and wants to control that puppy just as much as you do.
You get me, peeps?
You don't just marry your puppy, you marry your puppy's previous owners.
Something to think about while I'm chained in this basement.