You call that barking?

Of dogs and men.

That should be the title of my week/month/year thus far. A few weeks ago the former Mr. "offered" for me to take the dogs full time. This is unusual because when we were settling the assets, his idea of "fair" was for the dogs to live at the country house and I could come visit them on weekends. Kind of like a dog museum. I'm sure he thought that I could look at them through the kitchen window for 10 minutes and then leave.

So colored me surprised when he said that he wanted more "him" time. Translation: time without the dogs. I bit my tongue when he said it again this weekend. I asked him why and he said that he was "moving on to a new phase in his life." 'What's her name' was my first question. Don't ask me why I didn't ask. OK, ask. Go on. Well, since you insist... I didn't ask because I just don't give a shit. There. I put it out there. The boyfriend, Ace – yeah, he's still around, finds it unusual that I don't talk to the Mr. more about my life. I find it odd that exes would talk to each other at all.

Ace and I spend a lot of time together. Sometimes it's overwhelming. He's not in school so he really can't sympathize with my workload and schedule. He tries hard to understand but when I'm doing homework, well, let's just say my new nickname for him is "What's up, Rocky?". Rocky has an unhealthy need for attention. So does Ace.

I asked Ace about the dogs full time situation. He was quiet. I repeated my question. This would impact my already limited flexibility. Being a full time dog mom is fine with me, but I wanted his opinion. Maybe because I thought it would be the same as mine. Or maybe because I thought by asking, he would see that I care about his opinions. Whatever. I think I was just being nice.

When he answered he said: "I like your dogs... it's just their incessant barking that drives me crazy." I was quiet for a few seconds and then I burst out laughing! Incessant barking? Really? I've had neighbors tell me that they hardly notice that I have dogs. They bark. Yes. More than some breeds? Maybe. More than the average beagle? Hell, no.

So then "we" got off on a tangent about all the things that he didn't like about my little cottage. It was then that I spoke up. This is a BFD for me. Usually I bury my feelings and get mad later. I calmly said to him: "I know that my house and my life is not perfect. But it's mine and I'm happy with it. I'm not asking you to be. Please stop being so critical of my choices."

He really didn't have a comeback for that one. Just that he complains when he's not comfortable. Tonight I'm taking a break and getting a little work done. And making mac 'n cheese. And sleeping in the middle of the bed. And listening to my music. And living my perfectly imperfect life.

I'll think about the dogs, and the men, tomorrow.