Just thought I'd share my morning today and leave you with a sad pathetic image.
So as I've been mentioning, we've been having frequent accidents with Georgia. Often it is because of our own faults; the door to the backyard was shut or I made the mistake of running upstairs for a brief moment when I knew she had to go (only to come back and find a nice big Tootsie Roll on the hardwood floor). Since then Joe and I have been trying to be like hawks whenever she's alone with us and she starts sniffing.
Luckily, we're starting to get her morning routine down. She wakes us up around 6:30, Joe attempts to get her to go downstairs with him but the damn dog only wants ME to do it (when all I want is to sleep until my g.d. alarm goes off at 7:10), I escort her to the door, she trots out and pees, comes back for the food I put in her bowl, and not more than 10 mins. later she goes #2. This morning was to be no exception.
The crack of lightning this morning woke us all up. Joe, once again tried to encourage her out but that little brown thing kept hopping up near our bed to see me. Terrified she was going to piss all over the floor I finally hopped out of bed in my summer pjs (consisting of a small tank top and short shorts) and hurried her to the door. It took a little coaxing but she finally got the urge and went outside to pee. Meanwhile, I'm standing by the door in my skimpy pjs trying to avoid the gaze of my neighbors.
She jumps back inside and eats. I wait until she is done and then, again, gesture her out the door. She sits and stares at me. I keep waving my arm out the door, even tossing a treat out to get her to go, but still that butt stays on the kitchen floor.
I should mention too, at this point it is starting to drizzle, but I don't care. I keep standing there trying to get her to go out.
When she still doesn't get it, I tell Joe to watch her so I can put on actual shorts and walk her around the backyard.
As soon as my flip-flops hit the grass, the skies open up. Georgia finally follows me, and thinking its playtime, starts giddily dashing to and fro around the yard.
There I was, getting pissed on by big gobs of rain, wearing a little tank top and shorts, thunder and lightning drama occurring right over my head, and a dog leaping and bounding away without a care in the world.
I stood alone in my yard, arms crossed over me, waiting for my damn dog to crap so I could get the hell back inside.
When it finally looked like it wasn't going to happen, I said "eff it" and I stomped back inside. Thankfully Joe took her for a walk (bundled up in a hooded sweatshirt) and she finally did her business.
But as I was standing out there I noticed a guy jog right by our house. I kept thinking, who the hell else would be out here in the rain at god damn 6:45 in the morning? It made me think about a woman Ashley and I met once at a Starbucks who, upon hearing us talk about our fears of losing our bodies when we got older, said, "My trick is to go to the gym everyday before work. And don't give yourself the option to skip."
She walked out and we noticed she did have a great figure for a woman who had four kids, but still. I give alot of credit to people who have that kind of discipline to force themselves up at the crack of dawn to work out, but I think it's not terribly practical for most working people. But who knows? That guy could just be the really smart one and have it so ingrained in his schedule that he doesn't mind it. He's getting the health benefits and good body that goes along with such rigid discipline.
Meanwhile, I'm just the half-naked chick standing in her yard, looking like she's waiting for the mother ship to land. Who's really got it right here?
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