it's nothing special....it's just kriss

Note to self: Surgery + Small Puppy = lot's of disasters. Somehow my dog knows I can't chase her. So she does naughty things. Like eating the dressings off my foot. Or stealing my socks. Or jumping on my face. Or making a mess of everything - including the contents of every garbage can in my house. Or barking at the door or other random things because I can't punish her. Or stealing my mac and cheese and putting her adorable little face in every bite of food I try to take. And that short list doesn't even touch what she's managed to do this week. But, inspite of her being so naughty - she is just too stinking cute!

Today marks 7 days since I went in for foot surgery. It's been an interesting 7 days. Here are the highlights: Day 1 - Thursday - Showed up to the hospital exactly on time - only to find my appointment had been moved up and no one bothered to tell me. Consequently, the doctor and I arrived at exactly the same time - Was momentarily extremely impressed with the hospital gown that hooks in to a never-ending source of warm air before going under - Spent a pleasant afternoon on a warm beach with crashing waves (which I hope wasn't me drooling) - Impressed the nurse with my mad wheelchair navigation skills on my post-op potty run - Made record surgery time by walking (okay, being wheeled out) of the hospital exactly 2 hours and 1 minute after walking in ... approximately - Realized that allergies to pain meds = no pain meds that work = ouch + vomiting! - Spent a disgusting amount of time in the chair at my parents' house - Still made it home (somehow) to sleep in my own bed Day

I got an email from my client last week. My boss, my boss' boss and several other people were copied. She single handedly killed my career. I mean seriously, who writes things like 'Who needs luck when they have KRISTINE! Go get 'em Tiger!" Yep. There goes my career. My honor. My family name. My self respect. My dignity. My credibility with ANYONE in the office. Oh, and did I mention my career?

Courtesy of my dog - apparently I am now a hoarder. This is how lunch with the coworkers went down last week: I pulled off my straw wrapper, wadded it into a little ball and stuck it in my pocket. My coworker leaned over and said, "You don't have to keep that, you know." It took me like two minutes to figure out what the heck she was talking about. Then it dawned on me. My dog has conditioned me to put all small objects, pieces of paper and anything eatable, breathable or chewable in my pocket. And that was the beginning of the harrasments of what my closets must look like - all stuffed with tiny balls of straw wrappers and old junk mailers. Thanks Piper. Thanks so much.

I used to be totally fine with bathroom conversation. The casual kind when friends went to the bathroom together and conversation continued as usual. Then I had a co-worker who was horribly terrified of talking to anyone in the bathroom. Thanks to her, now, I awkwardly avoid eye contact and conversation whenever I'm in the bathroom. I walked into the bathroom at work this morning. There were two ladies from 'the other side of the building'. They were engaged in jovial conversation - which promptly ceased as soon as I walked in. The lady by the counter stared at me as I awkwardly made my way to a stall. The other lady was still in a stall and obviously wasn't bothered by my presence - she continued the conversation. I wasn't really interested in what they were discussing, so I didn't really pay attention. Then, out of nowhere, I hear: "Well, Mike has been known to inspire several man crushes." How do you even react to that?