All Dogs Go To Heaven

There’s something about the winter that’s just depressing. Beyond all the little things I’ve talked about in the past, like the snow and the cold and the mud all over the carpets, there’s just something that makes people sad during this season. Even if you aren’t formally diagnosed with seasonal depression, you’ve probably experienced some winter tears in your life.

My dog passed away yesterday and I took it really hard. People that don’t have pets probably don’t understand, but they become like family and it’s tough.

Animals have this weird affect on people like me, too. Someone like me, who is constantly stressed and annoyed, can freak out on nearly anyone. But, if I’m upset and I yell at my dog or my cat, I kind of want to punch myself in the face. My dog used to eat my clothes, pee on the carpets, eat the garbage and tear up bags of cat food. I wanted to kill him 98% of the time. Yet, the other 2% of the time, when he was snoring peacefully next to me, convinced me to never be mad at him. There’s something so innocent about our pets that I don’t think I’ll ever find in another human.

I haven’t experienced a lot of death in my life. My grandma passed away when I was 14, but that’s the last time I dealt with having someone extremely close to me removed from my life. So, as a result, I guess my pets have taken that role.

Death, in general, is such a strange topic. Everyone deals with it in different ways, and it’s difficult to talk about openly. I even feel somewhat uncomfortable writing the word, “death.” For something that’s so natural, and that happens to everyone, it’s amazing how deep of a toll it takes on all of us.

There’s really nothing stressful or sarcastic about death, so this topic sort of steers away from my usual rants. What’s funny is that something as serious as this, which should be causing me anxiety, leaves me feeling mostly flat, for lack of a better word. I’m just sad, not worried or stressed out.

As I mentioned earlier, I believe that winter environment adds to it. All the plants are dying, the trees are losing their leaves, there’s currently a snow-pocalypse in Western New York and there’s just this overwhelming sense of loss that can enhance anything you’re feeling on a personal level.

I promise I’ll be back to my usual upbeat, sassy self by Monday, but today is my day to lay in bed, eat McDonald’s 2 for $1 chocolate chip cookies, and be sad about my dog.



Manic Mondays: The 4-Letter Dirty Word That Starts With ‘S’

So, what is it? What is the real 4-letter dirty word that begins with an ‘s’?

Get your head out of the gutter. Obviously, it’s ‘snow.’

This is what I’m dealing with on this fine Manic Monday. And I hate it. As if getting out of bed on Monday morning isn’t hard enough, let’s add chunks of cold, white crap falling from the sky to make things even more exciting.

I know I’ve talked a lot about the weather of upstate New York, and my ice-box of a bedroom, and my annoyance with the cold, but snow is in a category all by itself. I’m not sure if anything adds to my stress levels the way that snow does.


Manic Mondays: Weather Woes

The weather of upstate New York is almost as bipolar as I am.

This weekend was beautiful. Saturday was sunny and nearly 70 degrees. Today, it feels like it’s 20 degrees out. It’s rainy and it’s resulting in me never wanting to leave my bed, which I haven’t with the exception of attending one class and making cheesy eggs about an hour ago.

Pretty fitting for a Monday, right?

I’d like to look into hibernation as an option for 20-something-year-old girls. I really feel like bears got it right with that one. I’m curious why more species haven’t picked up that practice yet…

There’s something about the cold that seems to require hiding away from the world and from responsibilities. I literally haven’t accomplished anything today, I’m still wearing yesterday’s make-up and I’ve napped for approximately 3 hours. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was even up for blogging today, but my mood was about as “Manic Monday” as it could get and I couldn’t waste the inspiration.

To make matters worse, I live in an ice box. My room is primarily windows and half my windows are broken, since I live below the poverty live. My cheap landlord refuses to fix them, which is apparent by her refusal to answer my emails (Dad, if you’re reading this, don’t freak out. I’m sure my window will be fixed soon enough…). The design of my glass box room results in little heat, a lot of light and incessant noise. I’d sum it up as the perfect living conditions for someone as bitter and stressed as I am.

Ice Box and Fuzzy Sox

Ice Box and Fuzzy Sox

I’m just hoping Mother Nature decides to be less of a miserable brat tomorrow because there’s really only room for one of us, and I’ve become quite comfortable in my role over the years.