I am about one more major household “accident” away from finding homes for my dogs. I love my dogs, really I do. But when I got them 4 (Clay) and 4-1/2 (Katie) years ago, I had no plans for being a single mom.

Maya has napped roughly one hour (if that) each day yesterday and today, and I’ve spent time that I had no business spending fixing a leak under Scott’s tenant’s sink.

Maya finally went to bed, and I got to take a bath.

Got out of the bath…now I’m pouring about a gallon worth of Nature’s Miracle on my (less than one year old) carpet and going to bed. The dogs are in their crates, and Clay (who’s accustomed to sleeping at the foot of my bed under the covers) will whine like a little girl, but I don’t care. They’re sleeping in their crates…not that either of them has anything left IN THEM, but I’m angry enough that I don’t want them in my bed.

I’m pissed, I’m frustrated, I’m crying, and I’m turning into one of “those” awful people. Sigh.