I only take advice from 80s songs.

Today I dropped her highness off at doggie daycare and when the techs at the front desk pulled her chart, they started Exchanging Looks and having a nonverbal conversation about the contents of her chart.

I assumed that Rosey had bitten someone or tried to kill another dog when she was there for daycare last week (it's part of her charm, after all) so I said, as casually as possible, "Do they make notes about bad behavior during daycare?"

"They do," the tech said.

"So has she gotten aggressive with any of the other dogs? She had a little run-in at the dog park this weekend, so I was wondering if she'd had issues here. I don't want to cause stress for the staff if she can't behave."

"I don't see anything," the tech said. "I think she's fine. Let me just get her on the scale quick."

That's not standard practice, but okay, so they put her on the scale. My dog has gained ten pounds since I got her. Ten pounds! She's gonna have to cut back on the pupperoni. Though she was skin and bones when I got her, in my defense, so she's not fat. The tech said she looked good, actually. Apparently my 30-pound dog is actually a 40-pound dog. (She could stand to lose a pound or two, I think, but she's just so happy and after struggling to get her to eat for so long, I probably overcompensated for awhile.

Anyway, it turned out they'd given me the wrong dosage of flea and tick medication, which I haven't even taken out of the bag yet because she's not due until next week, so I have to bring it back when I pick her up and exchange it for the correct dosage. I was starting to worry that maybe there was something wrong with her, but I guess they were just being secretive because they were afraid I'd be upset about the mix-up.

Then the vet tech scooped Rosey right up (all 40 pounds of her) and took her behind the desk to wait for the daycare people to come get her, so I could get on my way. She gets really freaked out there first thing in the morning because the floor cleaner they use smells like the shelter, so she was shaking and didn't want to walk. She did make friends with a very sweet Border Collie while we were waiting, though.

I was half an hour late for work as a result, but I'm always late, so that's no big deal. And then I went through the Starbucks drive thru to get a Pumpkin Spice Latte and the guy in front of me paid for my order. Thanks, random stranger!

Lately every single inch of me hurts pretty much all the time. This is a direct result of walking my dog roughly two hours every single day. While that probably sounds excessive, the truth is that she could go a lot longer. She's got tons of energy and it needs to be burned off somehow. The two hours of walking really doesn't even do that much to help, to be honest (though I can only imagine what kind of mischief she'd get up to if I didn't walk her so much.)

I'll be glad when my fence is fixed and she can go run around in the back yard, though I have a feeling it won't help much. It's likely she'll still be expecting walks, and since exercise is the whole reason I got a dog, I will still take her for them. Maybe I can cut it down to morning and evening and skip the after work walk, though. That would be nice, especially given how hot it's been here.

Job hunting is still not for the faint of heart. It's a measure of how much I'm getting on in years that I remember a time when I could just apply for whatever job out of state (or move and *then* get a job) and have no problems finding something. These days I can barely get an interview, because people would rather hire locally and save the fuss. That's understandable; it is a buyer's market, if you will. But it's frustrating, especially when I'm trying to move for my health and I can't *say* that because then I sound sickly and like a bad insurance risk.

It's all kind of exhausting. Still, I have decent experience, so the right thing will come along sooner or later. Or so I keep telling myself. I found the most adorable short sale in West Palm Beach, and if I can find a job in that area I will do whatever I can to buy it. Seriously, it's the cutest little bungalow with a pretty little yard in a historic neighborhood, perfect for me and the menagerie. But first I have to find a job. I'm like a broken record these days, which is why I never post anymore.