Damn that transitive property!

Do you guys remember the transitive property from algebra? You know, if A=B and B=C then A=C? I remember it, and it's been getting in the way of my laziness lately. I've decided, now that I'm a dog-parent, that I must be a grown-up. That is to say, that I ought to act like one. So, for instance, when Pixie and I came in from our evening walk tonight, and all I wanted to do was watch TV and go to bed, I noticed a sink full of dishes. Now, before this whole I'm a grown-up thing, or perhaps without the transitive property in place, I would be able to carry on with the evening's activities and let the dishes mind their own business. Unfortunately, grown-ups don't leave their dishes in the sink to pile up for days, I'm a grown-up, and therefore, by the transitive property, I don't leave my dishes in the sink to pile up for days. Instead of TV, I pulled on the yellow rubber gloves and cleaned the breakfast, lunch & dinner dishes before I retired to the bedroom. Life was more fun without algebra.

In other news, Pixie's having a minor health issue. She was spayed a week ago, and somehow the surgery caused an infection that makes her think she has to pee approximately every 30 seconds. I'm sure it's annoying and uncomfortable for her, but who cares about her, she's a dog!? No, no, I don't mean that, I just mean, DAMN it sucks to be awoken by your dog to go for a walk (in one of the most dangerous cities in America) at 3 in the morning! She's doing better now, and has been sleeping through the night (I really do sound like a parent, no?) but still asks to go out about every 2 hours when I'm home. I liked her better when we went for four walks a day and that was that.

Pixie has been tasked with finding me a boyfriend. Unfortunately, so far the only men she shows affinity for are dog owners who are already married or black men in their late teens. Oh well, I don't really need a man: I've got her to snuggle with at night and a shower massager I affectionately call "Hank" (I love Hank because he's always ready when I am, never makes me lie and say I have a headache, and doesn't expect me to reciprocate in any way). Once I buy one of those open-any-jar-thingies, I'll have the complete trifecta, and a man will 100% unnecessary in my apartment (though I guess it would be nice to have someone do the dishes).

I got Moxie, kid!

I named my dog Pixie, instead of Moxie, but she's the wiener dog of my dreams. Adorable, sweet, and snuggly, she's even cute when she chews my shoes. Thank goodness she's housebroken! More soon...