So I'll admit it...I'm going a little nuts at home. Our kids and work (housework included) have the both of us white knuckling the edge of our sanity, wondering if there will ever be an end to the chaos. Last night I went out for my daily run and went on my 1.5 mile route. On this particular route I have to pass a house that has an eight pound Jack Russell Terrier whom I've dubbed "the evil punk dog." Yesterday was a particularly hard day for me and about fifteen minutes after Scott got home HE was pushing me out the door to run and relieve some stress. So I jog pass by this house with Evil Punk Dog and I know what's coming. I have to prepare myself because there have been a few times when this little snot has scared me so hard that I nearly wet my pants. Not because he's so vicious or intimidating, but because I have my Mp3 player going on blast and the little shister darts out at me at a Jaguar's pace from behind whatever evil rock or bush he's lurking behind, yiping, snapping and coming within inches of his invisible fence boundaries. Freakin' goober dog. Grrrr! Right back atcha, you little punk! I know it's not nice of me to think so ill of a cute little dog (he IS cute despite his nasty defensive ankle biting tendancies), but yesterday it took every last ounce of restraint (which wasn't much, trust me) I had not to jump across his invisible line and punt his hairy butt back to the porch with my size nine pink New Balance running shoe. And this is what I've been reduced as a stressed out stay at home mom of three...a crazy lady who was a hair's breath away from kicking a tiny neighborhood dog.
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