I'm done feeling sorry for myself. There isn't enough time.

And anyway, it's #finechinafriday. Thank you, Jana, for this delightful idea of enjoying the finer things in life.

Since we only have one set of plates, and they are quite pretty, I am having to think outside the box for #finechinafriday. Things like burning the $30 candle, because otherwise, what a waste of $30.

Or wearing my new-to-me vintage Dana Buchman silk blouse to do laundry.

Here's your Friday fashion fix, Joules ; )

None of that was completely enough to get me to quit whining about yesterday's citric acid meltdown in the poptart aisle in Kroger.

Nope. It took unleashed dogs to piss me off so much that I'm like "what meltdown in the Kroger?"

Today just got big. And not in a good way. It got big in a completely weird, you'd-make-fun-of-this-if-you-saw-it-on-TV kind of way.

Because of the unleashed dog problem here in the swamps of East Texas, I have been attacked once and my dog twice by dogs that are not controlled by their owners. When our puppy got attacked while Sunshine was home, he finally got mad enough to take action. He came out the door with a .50 caliber rifle.

The landlord brought us a BB gun to use instead.

Except the BB gun kind of necessitates two hands. Which means that the hand holding my Mollie's leash is caught in a lose-lose conundrum.

Don't tell Sunshine, but I know where he keeps a loaded handgun, heretofore referred to as "cowbell". Because this day needs more cowbell. And I need to feel like I can do laundry without fear of being attacked by roving dogs.

Something is wrong with the world when laundry day involves a need for more cowbell.