Is it sad that today is the second time since I’ve lived here that I’ve brought out the iron and ironing board? Maybe, but I’m starting new disciplines in my life and this will be one of many. I’m going to iron my own pants. I refuse to pay for the drycleaner to do it anymore. Go me.

I woke up this morning to Bella chewing on something, so I shouted, as I do every time, “Bella, no! What are you chewing on?” …as if she knows English. Oh she had my favorite jeans. It’s not like they were new or anything, but you know you have them. You know? Your favorites? The ones you could wear every day if society would let you? Yup–ruined. Hole in the butt–and it’s a pretty big hole. Well, folks, I’ve done before and I’ll do it again. If Bella can’t keep her mouth to herself and chews up a couple more of my favorite things, that dog is getting Craigslisted. I can handle the chewed up black ink pen that created a puddle of a landmass in the middle of the living room carpet, the missing carpet by the sliding glass door, the blanketless house because someone had an unmanageable mouth, and the unrecognizable mac computer cord, but this? The jeans…no you didn’t.