Dear Diary …
I am gettin’ froze out! I’m King of my Castle … Lord of My Manor … Ruler of My Kingdom … oh who am I kidding? No I’m not. I got no control. And even worse, I’m being held hostage by an eight pound demon.
Yup … tiny dog is freezing me out!
You see Diary, we have a little dog named Francie, and she is seriously about the size of one of those dogs that rich 21 year olds carry around in a $1,000 purse while they shop on Rodeo Drive. And “dog” really isn’t even the correct term, she’s more like a rat … or a weasel … or some other kind of rodent. Because despite her tiny size … she is totally controlling my house. Specifically … my bed.
Now … I like dogs. But I don’t like ‘em in my bed. I’ll hang out with ‘em all day long, but when it’s time to go to sleep. You go in your bed, and I go in mine.
The problem is, my wife’s philosophy on this is “Oh you’re such a cute little squinkitude!! … You love to snuggle don’t you?” Which in lady language translates to, “Me no listen to husband.”
So now … this dog is in my bed. And not just "in my bed" … but right in the MIDDLE of my bed. By my head. Like a human. And in between me and the wife.
And Diary … I’m a happily married man. And I like showing that fact off fact from time to time with a little "mashing of the potatoes". But now, I’m gettin’ totally froze out by this attention-hogging maggot who is Zack blockin’ me from any action.
And her being in the way would be bad enough … but that little rat grows at me when I get near what she defines as “her” space. YOUR space???? This MY bed, yo! I don’t hear you doin’ no Sleep Number commericals to pay for this thing!!!
And sure, I could just pick that weasel up and toss her off the bed, but that’s not exactly a subtle, spontaneous romantic move. I might as well broadcast [SIREN] … “Red alert! Red alert! Husband on the move!!! Look alive people!!”
That’s not exactly a chapter in 50 Shades of Grey … let’s just put it that way.
So there you have it Diary … you spend your whole life busting your butt to get a good education, find a good job, make some money, and provide a life for you and your family … only to have it all controlled by an evil 8 pound kingpin who lays around all day and still manages to dictate every minute of your entire life.
Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.