One Tired Queen
Queen Me shares . . .
Okay, here’s the deal. I haven’t been sleeping well this week. There are several reasons, but the most disruptive one is our new dog. I know. What was I thinking? I’m still asking myself that question. We’ve taken on a seven-year-old female—quite possibly the sweetest dog on the planet. Our sweet Sugar got to us by way of a breeder house. Busted by dog lovers, the breeder lost her 100 dogs within a day. The dogs were placed with organizations in Arkansas and Oklahoma.
Our Sugar, though, isn’t housebroken. When I picked up our new dog, the foster mom swore she was. Well, I’m swearing, “No she’s not!” On top of that, she’s not familiar with sleeping through the night (meaning she howls for hours). So, this Queen is tired. And, well . . . it’s hard to feel queenly when you simply want to crawl back in bed.
I’ve had a roller coaster week. “I’m taking her back!” That’s what I mumble as I clean up the messes she leaves behind. “Oh, but she’s so happy with us.” And, other than this housebreaking deal and her issues with separation, she’s wonderful. At the moment, she’s staying. I’ll have to keep you posted on the outcome. Of course, there’s a big part of me that is struggling with the idea of returning her. I don’t do that. No, not me. But, maybe I do? Like I said . . . we’ll just have to see.
And, more reasons not to sleep . . .
While driving home from picking up our newest family member last Saturday, we decided to get some gas. Not sure why I picked the place I did, but it seemed like the perfect pit stop. By Tuesday, my SUV started acting up. When cranking my vehicle, it sputtered and groaned. Trying to explain the problems away, I blamed the artic temperature. No matter, I still got to where I was going. So, I shrugged it off. But, that afternoon, it happened again. So, I called the dealership and scheduled an appointment for Wednesday. Surely, my warranty would cover whatever the annoyance turned out to be. Oops, I totally forgot the appointment (must have been from lack of sleep). Finally on Thursday, my car was delivered to the shop. At first, the mechanics couldn’t figure out what was happening and needed to keep it overnight. The next day they were on to something, “By any chance did you get gas on the Turnpike on Saturday?” Nodding my head I said, “Yep sure did.”
“Well, we’ve been talking to other dealerships in town and you’re not the only one with this mystery problem. We’ve found about ten others so far.” I brace myself. “Somehow or another they mixed the diesel with the regular gas. We’ve got to clean your engine.”
By Saturday, I had my car back. Surprisingly, after I left the dealership my purse felt so much lighter—to the tune of just under $600. Yikes! I’m still wrapping my little mind around that one. Of course, my dealership folks say “they” should pay for it. So, that’s what I get to do on Monday. Try to get “they” to reimburse me. How does one find the telephone number for "they" when "they" are on the Turnpike?? And, well, that makes me tired just thinking about it.
Tired. Yep, tired! Irritated and still trying my best to feel queenly. Okay, it’s most definitely time to pull out and wear my tiara. One tiara, two aspirins, a good nights sleep and surely I’ll be feeling queenly by tomorrow. Wonder if the dog would wear one? Can a dog wearing a tiara use the bathroom in your house? Surely not!
Okay, here’s the deal. I haven’t been sleeping well this week. There are several reasons, but the most disruptive one is our new dog. I know. What was I thinking? I’m still asking myself that question. We’ve taken on a seven-year-old female—quite possibly the sweetest dog on the planet. Our sweet Sugar got to us by way of a breeder house. Busted by dog lovers, the breeder lost her 100 dogs within a day. The dogs were placed with organizations in Arkansas and Oklahoma.
Our Sugar, though, isn’t housebroken. When I picked up our new dog, the foster mom swore she was. Well, I’m swearing, “No she’s not!” On top of that, she’s not familiar with sleeping through the night (meaning she howls for hours). So, this Queen is tired. And, well . . . it’s hard to feel queenly when you simply want to crawl back in bed.
I’ve had a roller coaster week. “I’m taking her back!” That’s what I mumble as I clean up the messes she leaves behind. “Oh, but she’s so happy with us.” And, other than this housebreaking deal and her issues with separation, she’s wonderful. At the moment, she’s staying. I’ll have to keep you posted on the outcome. Of course, there’s a big part of me that is struggling with the idea of returning her. I don’t do that. No, not me. But, maybe I do? Like I said . . . we’ll just have to see.
And, more reasons not to sleep . . .
While driving home from picking up our newest family member last Saturday, we decided to get some gas. Not sure why I picked the place I did, but it seemed like the perfect pit stop. By Tuesday, my SUV started acting up. When cranking my vehicle, it sputtered and groaned. Trying to explain the problems away, I blamed the artic temperature. No matter, I still got to where I was going. So, I shrugged it off. But, that afternoon, it happened again. So, I called the dealership and scheduled an appointment for Wednesday. Surely, my warranty would cover whatever the annoyance turned out to be. Oops, I totally forgot the appointment (must have been from lack of sleep). Finally on Thursday, my car was delivered to the shop. At first, the mechanics couldn’t figure out what was happening and needed to keep it overnight. The next day they were on to something, “By any chance did you get gas on the Turnpike on Saturday?” Nodding my head I said, “Yep sure did.”
“Well, we’ve been talking to other dealerships in town and you’re not the only one with this mystery problem. We’ve found about ten others so far.” I brace myself. “Somehow or another they mixed the diesel with the regular gas. We’ve got to clean your engine.”
By Saturday, I had my car back. Surprisingly, after I left the dealership my purse felt so much lighter—to the tune of just under $600. Yikes! I’m still wrapping my little mind around that one. Of course, my dealership folks say “they” should pay for it. So, that’s what I get to do on Monday. Try to get “they” to reimburse me. How does one find the telephone number for "they" when "they" are on the Turnpike?? And, well, that makes me tired just thinking about it.
Tired. Yep, tired! Irritated and still trying my best to feel queenly. Okay, it’s most definitely time to pull out and wear my tiara. One tiara, two aspirins, a good nights sleep and surely I’ll be feeling queenly by tomorrow. Wonder if the dog would wear one? Can a dog wearing a tiara use the bathroom in your house? Surely not!
posted by Allyn Evans at 1:13 PM
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