When the going gets tough…

I woke up this morning crying about Baby Girl.  I thought I was past that, I guess not.  To help get my mind off of that, my body was whining about all its aches and pains from this past week of moving.  So… I crawled (almost literally) out of bed at 4:30 am this morning, grabbed some food and coffee, and headed out to the old house to finish up.  Was done and back here by 9:30.   Woohoo, finally done with that place!!  *snoopydance*

Fenny and Sheri’s dog, Meadow, are having difficulty adapting to each other.  Fen’s pretty miserable here, and I’m not sure why, she’s not usually this hard to please.  I keep reminding myself that she lost her best friend and her boy (Robert, my son), within 24 hours of each other, and then within two weeks of that, we have been in and out of the car, all over town, to the vet’s (she was actually pretty good there), back and forth to here (Sheri’s) a few times, etc.  I feel bad, but I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.

So the original plan was for me to take off on vacation tomorrow after the guy comes out and inspects the house (and gives me my check).  But now I’m worried (again!) about the dog situation.  I feel like if I leave, I’m just dumping the problem on Sheri, and it’s not like I haven’t already dumped enough on her!  (just check  her inventory of cleaning supplies and spices, LOL)

So I’m uneasy… plus I’m more than a little bit worried about driving the Explorer back to San Diego.  Fun times…

If life’s a dance you learn as you go, I feel like I’m learning the Tango with two left feet.