Dog Gone It

Day One of living with a boy.
And his dog.
Which, he hates, and I absolutely love.  The dog, I mean, not living together. I love that, too, but, he finds the dog completely annoying and needy.  I see these traits as loyal and trustworthy.  He screwed up when he got a Lab, because I am a sucker for those.  Need we look at the four labs I grew up with? I think not.

Anyway. This Dumb Dog is now sitting outside, scratching at the patio door.  Why, you might ask?  It is because this dumb stupid thing of an animal chewed up my sandal.  Okay that's a lie-it wasn't my sandal, which makes it even worse.  I borrowed the damn things, and what do I do now?  It's not like I can give the pair back saying that this was how I took them in the first place.  Not at all. 

It's much like a child, when he does good things, he's my kid.  When he's a rotten, spoiled, irritating, obnoxious thing of a being- he's totally Steve's.  I can just picture him coming home from work, with I in heels and pearls around my neck vaccuming in a total June Cleaver way,
'Do you know what your son did today?!'
'How come when he's bad, he's my son?'
'Because, I say so, and I'm an absolute angel and I know my son wouldn't do something like that, so he must have gotten it from your influence.'
and Steve'll be all, '...yes, dear.'
That's right.

I know I'll end up forgiving him in about ten minutes, but right now I'm angry.  I know that he will stand by me (the dog, not my boyfriend) when no one else will, because after all, they're all about loyalty and being your best friend.

Right now, though?
He's still a dumbass dog.


I live with a boy?!

I'm living with a boy. I'm choosing to live with a smelly, messy boy. This is MY choice?!
It's my choice to have to do our laundry. Not because he asks me to, but because I take the initiative?
I HATE Laundry!
It's my choice to always clean the kitchen, with dishes piled up in the sink and the dishwasher empty.

It's my choice to sit across from him and read a book while he plays video games?
It's My choice.
To cook for two?
My choice.
Yet, amid all these negative things about living with a boy, I can't help but seem to look at the good. Like the little moments. Where he falls asleep after a day of work right next to me, curled up under our new green, cream and chocolate comforter. Or the moments where he chooses me over going to dinner with a friend. I can't forget about the little nuances that make him MY boyfriend.
The face I wake up to every morning. The face I fall asleep to, the one I cry to, the one I vent to. The person I jump on when I'm excited about good news. He is mine, I am his, and I am living with him.

The next step.
The next level.

Let's just hope I can remember all of those good things when he forgets to put the toilet seat down (which he hasn't forgotten yet!).