Sometimes anger is a good thing. I wish it was a good thing more often, since I seem to be angry all the time these days, but at least Sunday it made me a bit productive. I got so mad yet again about having 50,000 boxes crammed into closets and put in the garage without having been sorted through when we moved A YEAR AGO that I actually threw a bunch of crap out, found three (small) things to put in a garage sale (that we may or may not have, but at least it was mentioned), and made a little more space in one of the downstairs closets. Not a big victory, but a victory nonetheless.

In other news, we trucked our collective ass and a washer and dryer to Akron last Wednesday to help Kim and Charles move their stuff into the new house. All things considered, it well a hell of a lot better than I had expected. It was hella hot (ha ha, I love you Jeff) and they had an amazing amount of stuff to be taken upstairs and I went too long without a rest, but that's OK. And I cut my leg on the corner of a dresser drawer, so now I have a big red cut with a big purple bruise all around it, but that's OK too.

Skipping on over to yet another topic, I have some advice to all my friends who have children, who are pregnant, or who are even thinking about having children: Do not, under any circumstances, let your child harass your childless neighbors. Especially your childless neighbors who work late and therefore sleep late and who have told you that they have no desire to have children at the moment because their animals are plenty to handle right now, thankyouverymuch.

You see, we have this problem. I apparently was too nice when the people next door moved in and did not set boundaries about when it's OK for the little boy to come over and play with the dog. Now, whenever it's nice outside and I'm out with Rusty, he's in my yard, in my face, in the dog's face. We're not talking every now and then, we're talking 95% of the time.

This little boy is only 5, so I have to hold the dog the entire time the boy is in reach, and that dog is really strong, so it's difficult at times. And it doesn't matter how many times I tell him he needs to stay in his yard so Rusty doesn't jump on him and hurt him, it doesn't matter how many times his mom says it, he just heads on over.

It used to be that when I would tell him to get back over in his yard, he'd look at me and say, "What?" like I had just spewed a bunch of gibberish. His new thing is to look at me and say, "I know" and then proceed to climb up on my porch or rile the dog up. A couple days ago I told him that he needed to go back in his yard so he didn't get hurt and he said, "I know," then climbed up on my porch, grabbed a ball and said, "Rusty likes to play ball" and then threw the ball into the yard. That's when I said, "OK, we're going in now, you need to go home."

Yeah, that's my new tactic. As soon as he steps foot across that imaginary threshold, we go inside.

It's gotten to the point where I have to try to sneak outside to let Rusty take a shit and then sneak back inside without being seen, which is difficult since there's only like three feet between the houses.

I also greatly enjoy it when I'm in the garage looking for something and I look up at the house to check on the dog, and guess who's there. The worst part (with my being in the garage away from them, but also with the whole situation in general) is that I don't think mom is paying attention, thereby making me responsible if the little angel falls down, gets pushed down by the dog, whatever. I'm sorry, but I gave up babysitting more than a decade ago, and I don't have the time or desire to keep an eye on this boy. I want to be able to sit outside and do crossword puzzles in the sun, waiting for the dog to pee on the side of the porch, in peace.

Any suggestions?



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