Working Like a Dog

Flyball practice wears me out. I'm sick of the stress - where will we practice? Where will we get the money? Will the new people hang in there, or bail?

And, then, physically, it's just tiring. I'm in wretched shape. It's difficult to run back and fourth for recalls. It's hard to manage my 60 lb, very drivey dog. I'm getting a fairly constant pain and pressure in my chest that I'm pretending is indigestion, but is probably anxiety.

And money is so tight. Everything takes money, and I don't have any.

And I spend so much time working on flyball designs and trying to figure out how to market them. I hate marketing. I Twitter, and Blog (3 different blogs) and post on forums, Facebook, and make lenses and websites and do all this social networking and, well, I'm not very social.

The life has gone out of me and I fantisize about just walking away. I just need a little time and sunshine for my leaves to unfurl. Please, let something good happen.

Practice was practice. Z-Dog got all of his lumbering tootsies over the prop at boxwork. Weasel did good turns with the prop and shash and grab without it. Sorry for the whine.