We are in Idaho, visiting the in-laws and attending Andy's grandma's funeral. Staying here is always a living experiment in sleep deprivation. We headed to bed at 12:30 a.m. (early for me), but I couldn't sleep due to the house smelling like paint (Mom-in-law has recently remodeled her bathroom). Am I really weird for letting the smell of paint keep me awake? Dunno. But that's the way it is. Anyway, by the time I drifted off to sleep, it was almost 2 a.m., just about the same time as Sherrie came in! Shelly was being a good little protector and barking her head off. So, after it was all said and done, I finally got to sleep around 3 a.m. Hey, that's more like it! Lizzie woke me up at 7 a.m., and while she is gently sleeping again, Nate also woke up, necessitating (is that even a word?) the wakeful state of at least one parent. Here I am.
Speaking of Shelly, she came in from her potty break last night cut up and gimped up, with none of us knowing how. Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck! Those of you who know me that dogs aren't just dogs to me. And we've had Shelly for almost nine years. She was my kid before we had kids. Bandaging up my bleeding dog while she lies in my lap is not my idea of a good time. I was, in fact, crying like a baby. I'm not sure why I'm sharing this, except perhaps maybe someone somewhere knows what it's like. I often say that no one knows how an infertile woman feels about her pets except another infertile woman. But, maybe someone out there can come close.