A new chapter

Too tired to write a lot right now. The boxes are packed, the extras have been stored away. George is passed out (and presumably happily) in his crate, and I'm settling into my seat on my first-ever one-way journey to NYC. It was weird seeing the apartment cleared out for the first time in 6 years. The skyline outside my windows had changed slightly, the decor had changed slightly, and my life has changed, well, a lot. But I suppose that's what life is about. Change. I'm ready for it. I hope you're ready for me, New York.

Things they didn't tell you about (wo)man's best friend

I'm tired. Not like, it's been a rough week tired, but TIRED tired. This weekend marks week 5 with George, and let me know tell, it's been a long five weeks. So if last post was (mostly) about the positive things about owning a dog. This post is about the stuff they left off the marketing brochure:

-I haven't slept a solid 9 (or 8) hours in 5 weeks. I'm really tired. All the time.

-Scrubbing "accident" areas and chasing down George before he poops in the wrong place has replaced yoga class and lounging on the couch

-I need a manicure. (and a pedicure for that matter, but who's keeping track?) This is the longest I've gone without one, in oh, 5 years?

-I now find it normal that I examine the duration, size, and quality of his bowel movements on a daily basis

-The only fashion sites that I keep up with are the ones related to dog leash/leads, beds, and other related dog stuff. When is that damn Trish Hampton collar coming out in George's size anyway?

-My mind now has the magical ability to map any potential social invite to George's sleep, nap, play, crate and potty schedule and make sure there are no conflicts before I respond "yes" or "no"

-George's playdates are a perfectly acceptable form of dinner and/or hanging out with friends from my former pre-George life

-I only wear heels when he is at daycare. Or at home in his crate. My Louboutins are crying. My Lanvin flats are on such rigourous rotation they're getting dizzy.

Yes, I still love him. Yes, I'll still bring him to NYC. But a girl is allowed to rant once in a while, right?