I’m full enjoying the single life.

Well, let me rephrase.

After speaking with my family and hearing about the superamazing time they are having on their east coast adventure, and being so envious and torn that I’m not there sharing the experience with them, I have allowed myself to make the decision not to wallow, to let them enjoy their vacation, and to embrace the single life. Although, truth be told, there hasn’t been much single in my single life. With the exception of the movie I saw solo and my trip to the grocery store, my week has been un-lonely.

I saw The Help with friends, and had a fun time trying to ignore throw popcorn at the two teen girls assholes beside us who were giving a very loud play-by-play Howard Cosell-like commentary on the movie, and explaining, audibly, any possible subtext. OH SHE IS PUSHING A STROLLER. SHE MUST HAVE HAD HER BABY! These, are, by far, the very worst kind of movie-goers.

I went for Shabbat dinner to my friend’s parents house.

My friend had a sleepover at my house.

We tried on 800 outfits at anthropologie and decided that colored jeans are in my future. It’s more a matter of when I find the size I need, and not so much of matter of if.

I did two photoshoots—one of my nieces and one of my cousin-in-law’s (Is that what you call your husband’s first cousin? Well, it is now!) girls; 6-month-old triplets and a 4-year-old. I’m just going to tell you that there buckets involved. Bright-colored buckets. Triplets make really great toys, I must admit.

I had sushi with friends.

I’m going to see another movie tonight with this lovely lady. Popcorn dinner, ahoy!

See. There’s no alone in my alone time.

But there’s one thing I have having issues with.

How do single people have pets???

I’m finding single pet-parenting to be almost as hairy as single parenting. (Obviously, there’s a bit of embellishment here, folks, because I don’t want to downplay how incredible trying and difficult single parenting is) But here’s the thing? When you are a working single parent? Chances are good that you’ve worked out a tolerable system for childcare; daycare, family, nanny, what have you. But pet-owners don’t exactly hire NANNIES for their dogs, amirite?

So, here I am making my social plans around my dog’s pooping schedule.

Oh, that’s cute that you think I’m kidding.

I assure you, I am not kidding. Not even a little bit. And I am slowly starting to realize that dogs, you know, NEED things. They need to be let out and fed and their water bowls need to be filled and they need attention. My dog could play the damn fetch game for an hour at a time. Also, don’t even try to eat in front of your dog, because then you hear the ear-bleeding meows of a dog wanting to share in whatever you are eating (and when you are solo, it’s usually something really nutritious like those giant puffy cheetos which I have heard are really super great for dogs.) I realize now that Indiana is very much my children’s dog. They are made to have the stamina to throw that damn weasel/badger/beaver toy across the living room floor 850 times. They have the energy to let him in and out and in and out and in and out.

He is SuperIndy, after all. What can’t he just take care of himself?

If you’ll excuse me. I need to figure out what I’m going to do with this here puppy when I go to PEI on Friday. Obviously, this was a genius idea that I had really thought through. Anyone want a puppy for the weekend? He’s really sweet and, well, he likes cheetos?