{"id":495,"date":"2004-11-08T11:49:01","date_gmt":"2004-11-08T15:49:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.law.harvard.edu\/snarl\/2004\/11\/08\/zigga-zig-ahhhhhh\/"},"modified":"2004-11-08T11:49:01","modified_gmt":"2004-11-08T15:49:01","slug":"zigga-zig-ahhhhhh","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/2004\/11\/08\/zigga-zig-ahhhhhh\/","title":{"rendered":"Zigga – Zig – Ahhhhhh"},"content":{"rendered":"

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I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want, I wanna…I wanna…I wanna…I wanna…um, I don’t know. <\/P>
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…and that’s the problem. <\/P>
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This weekend was when I drove Dusty down to the Cape to live with my parents (whether permanent or temporary is still unknown). I’ve written here before about the frustrating episodes we’ve had with Dusty. From peeing on our bed, to barking; from crying (nay, howling) when we leave to me having to wear ear plugs at night, I had never realized how much work was involved in being a pet-owner. Although my family always had a dog throughout my childhood, I was never the main care-giver.<\/P>
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Anyway, you’d think that after all of my kvetching, I’d be relieved that she is now living with my parents. WRONG! I’m actually missing her. I’m not feeling sad for her because I know she’s getting more attention than ever now that she’s with my retired father and semi-retired mother. But our condo does seem a bit empty now without her running to greet me, kissing me, following me from room to room and even (in recent weeks) laying on my lap peacefully.<\/P>
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But I find it frustrating that I’m only now realizing this. I think this is a perfect example of why I need to sort my own shit out. Like I said in my posting on Oct. 28th (the “break-up” posting), I really don’t know who I am anymore. I’m cranky, moody and, quite honestly, selfish. And that’s not who I want to be. But I think I need to work that out on my own and not subject other people (especially Matt) to that process. As evidenced by the past year or two, it’s dragging him down, too.<\/P>
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So, I’m moving on, and moving up.<\/P>
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Well, except for the damn rental car I got over the weekend. National Car Rental gave me a Chevrolet Aveo. First, I had no clue Chevrolet still existed. Second, based on this car, I can see why I thought they no longer existed. The Aveo must be the Yugo (or, since this was a Chevrolet, the Chevette) of the new millennium. There was no arm rest in the front seat and every time I drove over patches in the road (where frost-heaves previously existed or construction work was paved over) it sounded as if I was riding on train tracks. <\/P>
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But the worst thing was that Friday was very windy. For those of you in the northeast, you may recall that we had wind gusts in excess of 52 miles an hour Friday. Well, driving my little Aveo over the Cape Cod Canal (Sagamore Bridge) made me realize why it’s called Aveo….it’s for aviation. This freaking car felt like it was about to become airborne as I reached the top of the bridge. Hell, the whole ride required my hands at the 10 and 2 position to prevent the car from swerving into the adjacent lanes of traffic, but I swear I felt the car lift when I was at the top of the bridge.<\/P>
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I did make it to the Cape and back – even without the aid of flight attendants or pilots.<\/P>
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 <\/P>
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 <\/P><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want, I wanna…I wanna…I wanna…I wanna…um, I don’t know. …and that’s the problem. This weekend was when I drove Dusty down to the Cape to live with my parents (whether permanent or temporary is still unknown). I’ve written here before about the frustrating episodes we’ve […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":74,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-495","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/495","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/74"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=495"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/495\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=495"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=495"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=495"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}