General douchbaggery ‘n shit

It’s been a bit. Did you miss me? You know you did.. I know you did.. ūüėČ

Spring has sprung, and so, everything at the shelter¬†has gone full-fledged shit show. (Didja see what I did there?) Something about the warm air brings out the completely unreasonable in people. I don’t mind being busy at work, nor do I mind helping all of the animals. No, it’s when spoiled rotten human adults call 911 because the neighbor’s dog just crapped on their front yard … I just wanna slap their smug, entitled faces off. Here are some of the things Northern Virginians say to justify their general douchbaggery:

I pay my taxes. Well done.¬†I’m sure you’re a¬†fine, upstanding County resident, but your taxes have nothing to do with my non-profit, humane society salary. Your submission of tax paperwork does not entitle either of us to break the law or remove the annoying wildlife¬†digging holes in¬†the lawn or eating your hostas. You should consider using your tax refund to purchase a deterrent or two, like a motion-activated Yard Orbiter or some aluminum pie pans and pinwheels.

I’m an attorney. Welcome. Everyone in NoVa is an attorney, toots.

I have children. Congratulations on your ability to breed. Part of your responsibility as a parent is to teach those offspring to be aware of the world around them. There are and always will be wild animals outside. That is where they live.

You don’t care. Of all the insults, this one takes the taco, Tippy. To accuse me, who hath devoted her entire adult life to the welfare of animals both domestic and wild, of lack of caring is ignorant on a level I can’t even … just no.

I rescued my dog/cat. “Rescue” is an overused term used by folks who need a ‘lil pat on the back a bit more frequently than others. You don’t rescue animals from pet stores or breeders. You just don’t.

One more day till my weekend. One more day.

Oh, and speaking of the weekend…

I have a date.

Actually, I have two dates. I was asked out by two different guys in the span of 24 hours last weekend. I’ll¬†meet with one this Sunday for drinks and appetizers, and plans are in the works for a brunch date next Sunday with the other. Both seem very kind and smart, and as nervous as I am (and I am nervous), I’m also kind of excited to see how we’ll connect in person. I’ll throw it out there that Date #2 has a beautiful 17 month old daughter. Squeeeee!

I’m still doing the low-carb thing (well, mostly)¬†and thoroughly enjoying watching the numbers drop on the scale. I’ve decided not to aim for Ketosis, which is not ideal for those of us wading around in the dating pool (“Have you been using nail polish remover as mouthwash?”, “Oh, no, that’s just my ketones doing their fat burning thing ..¬†so sorry!”), focusing more on being mindful of carb intake, sweets (nope, just berries now and then), and NO processed foods or grains. My refrigerator is full of what seems like a wholly unreasonable amount of cheese, from shredded to slices, crisps, ricotta, cottage, fresh moz, parmesan (by the pound!), and cream cheeses. Really, there is never too much cheese, imho. Cheese. Wine. Eggs. They’re what’s for dinner.

And after dinner, well, let’s just say I know two little dogs and one large cat who are getting their spring hair cuts tonight, but shhhhh…¬†don’t tell them that. Malachi’s ‘do¬†is almost done already (ah, the benes of having your own office in an animal shelter), I just need to tidy around his face, feet, and trim that ridiculous tail that escaped a trimmin’ last time. That tail is so long I mistakenly sit on it in the car and then wonder why the boy seems to be stuck to the seat. OH, sorry little dude.

I continue to work to be present in my transition. (See last entry: “Transition”) I reached out to Love Bomb to request the tent. It’s a nice tent, only used a handful of times, besides, she got virtually everything in this “divorce”. Most of the furniture, all of the gaming stuff, big TV, my kayak, the .. blankets (gotdamn I was cold this past winter). Can’t claim to still be paying for it anymore, thanks Chapter 7! Thing is, when it comes to dating profiles and interests, camping is an eye-catcher for me, and yet, I haven’t a thing offer to the adventure but paper towels. Maybe. I don’t have anywhere to store a kayak, but I can slide a tent quite nicely in my balcony HVAC closet. It will live with my luggage in there – a carry-on size roller that was originally Love Bombs’. I’ve never owned luggage. Anyway, point is, I have room for the tent, and with a little luck, it will join me on some romantic adventures.

Because I will have romantic adventures.

One of these days.

Not desperate. Not grasping. It’s been a full year of being unattached and alone. I have finally, ironically, “found myself”. I’m proud of how far I’ve come. There are still some doozy anniversaries approaching, and I am scared. I wonder if I’ll ever look fondly upon April, ever again. ūü•Ä