I'll take 'Things that stink for $100', Trebek.

When I moved out of the country house into my city house I left the kids with their dad, per our custody arrangement. We’re trying one week on, one week off. It’s my week with the kids and so far it stinks. I mean specifically, P-dawg stinks. She’s got an upset tummy. (Dog people out there know of what I speak.) Together, she and R-fella have tried their best to redecorate my cottage Au Chien Naturale. But exploding dog and all, I’m delighted to have them with me. I didn’t realize how much just having them in the room with me would feel so good. (And stinky.) Last Saturday I moved my bed and as a result, I left the dogs for the week with their dad. It was so unbelievably hard. It tore a piece of my heart out. I sobbed when I said goodbye to them. I sobbed when I packed up the car one last time. I sobbed uncontrollably as I drove to my new life. I wouldn’t have left them if I thought that he wouldn’t love them as much as I do, but it still didn’t make it any better. The week without them flew by because I was busy with school, papers, social events and work. Mostly with the social events.

Exhibit A:
Tuesday: trivia.
Wednesday: going away party for former classmate.
Thursday: The Macallan whisky tasting.
Friday: wine drinking at a fundraiser.
Saturday: beer drinking and bowling at another fundraiser.

I need a week off for rehab. I’m looking forward to a quiet week with my hounds, stinky dog ass and all.