So, this is going to be strange writing on a laptop. That's right. Laptop. However, I must get this done because it's part of taking charge of my OCD…posting even when I'm not at my best.

Let's recap what's been going on. I have Max–arguably the prettiest baby boy puppy I've ever seen. He's got Angelina Jolie's lips (no kidding), the smile of one of the aliens from the Alien series of movies, a tiny white patch on his chest like my one dog, a multi-colored mouth like Teddy, and the rest is all Max. He's a beauty AND a beast. Still, he's smart. He knows how to sit. He plays fetch. He kisses and snuggles (and I can't help it…I gave him some raspberry sherbet today). He's precious. I miss Teddy, yet I get this overwhelming sense that he's ok, which has allowed me to bond with Maximilian Thanksamillion (or Hawk-Bait as I sometimes call him…sometimes Maximoo) very quickly and now that we've established something of a schedule I'm not cranky from lack of sleep and he's having less accidents. Bonus. The 'rent was in the hospital briefly for her t-cell lymphoma and I had fun-filled twenty-four hour Max duty for days. By the end of it, I was slightly suicidal. I mentioned this on the phone and neither of us took it seriously, except she was talking to a friend of hers and a social worker was eavesdropping outside the door…and the social worker went into her chart and sent the police to my house. Now, I was catching a three hour nap after very little sleep for nearly a week…so I see a face at my second story window and through the curtain it looks like my neighbor and he comes and goes freely from my yard and garage so I thought he was doing some sort of project and was just on a ladder giving me a playful wave. The next thing I know bam. The door is busted open and there's a yell of police. They come racing upstairs and before coming into my bedroom (as I'm trying to wake up) they ask me to surrender my guns and knives (um…yeah…me with a gun–how gauche…and the only serious knife I own is a decorative dagger that I specifically keep in storage so I don't use it on myself). They then ask me to put my hands up. I'm in my jammies with my hands up. They come in and start going through my phone and interrogating me. Apparently my reaction to their being there wasn't the norm…because I guess when a person wakes up to cops in their house they should swear at them and everything instead of looking bewildered. Didn't I hear the knocking? Well, no. I was asleep and the puppy didn't bark. Isn't it true I have a history of slashing my wrists? No (well, ok, I do, however, I'm not about to admit this to a cop who has mentioned going to the hospital already if they see it's necessary, plus, scars are faded and so I showed him my dog bites). The other goes downstairs and rifles through the meds on the counter and brings up an empty bottle that isn't even mine. That's right. They didn't even know my name or that those meds were for liver problems. So…after my interrogation, they get me downstairs and continue to go through meds and find some that are empty. I don't recognize the names immediately because I'm barely awake and in my pajamas with two cops (a third in a car outside). It hits me those are bottles from my urinary tract infection and I inform them of this (idiots that they were, I don't think they would've known the difference). Then piggy one settles in on a bottle of xanax (again, not my bottle which was in another room) and starts going through it. Wow…they're all pretty much there. I inform him dryly that it'd take a hell of a lot of benzos to do the deed without another catalyst. Apparently when he was busy getting his pharmacology degree on the side he learned oh no, you can definitely kill yourself with a few benzos in your system. Funny, when I took twenty-six with hydrocodone and what not, I was awake in like eight hours…and yes they're strong so…I guess piggy attended an online four hour course or something. They finally leave…through the door they busted, with my neighbor outside promising to fix it for me (and he did). The 'rent comes home because she's furious with the idiot social worker and the police and worried about me after that (because she was informe by my neighbor that he wasn't allowed in). The entire incident seemed more on par with me running a meth lab than potentially being suicidal. One of the cops even said this is just his job, but somebody is concerned about me. Well, I appreciate candor. Suffice it to say, weird day. And then things get more interesting.

So, my computer was working just fine and out of the blue…won't work. Now, I'm not shabby with computers and everybody I know is a bloody computer genius, so…when we exhausted ideas, it had to go to the shop, which necessitated purchasing the laptop as insurance because I don't like being out of contact with people and I like back-up for all my files. Now, we know I'm in debt from Teddy's vet bills to the tune of roughly $1000. We know Max cost $1500. I always pay bills. Laptop was cheap, but still $300ish. Router and other accoutrements came to another $100. Computer is in the shop for a $95 diagnostic and then…repairs will climb higher. Now, the laptop and its companion items are paid for. Max is paid for. My credit card, though, is suffering some. Which inhibits my ability to pay off my registry (I should be caught up with the credit card in a couple months). Still, financially right now I'm lucky not to need anything/have back-up for Max's bills which are forthcoming this month. And then we get to other stuff.

Saw a couple films (I think more, except I must've been unimpressed). Alvin and the Chipmunks Chipwrecked (boring) and Apartment 423 which was actually worth the $10 On Demand fee. For a tiny indy film, well done. I'm an aunt. I think. This goes back to my cousins. See, we always called our parents' cousins aunt and uncle etc. Now, my eldest cousin had her baby young and he always called me by name. My youngest cousin has three of the ugliest children in the world and they call me by name (which is a blessing because I don't want to be known to be related to them…what my cousin saw in their dad except dollar signs I'll never know). My middle cousin has three adorable children and we've had a up and down relationship…except she called three times in the last week and her kids address me as Auntie. It's sweet. And despite the fact that they're rich, too, I intend to spoil them because it's my one shot to be an Auntie (at least to somebody biological). Love life. It's heating up with N again…which is nice. He was great all through April and part of me thinks I wouldn't be here without him. And A is getting a divorce (supposedly). Which totally increases my dating pool. D is kind of out of the picture. Sometimes we just don't gel. It's the same with N, however, N is still dead set on marrying me and having kids with me…and hey, that's nice in a guy. He's like ready at any time. I want some time. Then there's M, my crush…my Prince Barin. Alas, why must he be attracted to Dale? There's also B…who keeps wanting to give me peep shows, however, I'm not feeling very cougar-esque and really…if I want a peep show I can grab N any time. He actually made me a little video from work. You can guess lol.

My neighbor's daughter got out of heroin rehab and we're sort of chummy. I got her a bunch of stuff for her room there (she's been bouncing back between home and her boyfriend's). She actually wanted to know if I was in Narcotics Anonymous, too, because everything I said in the card I got her to go with the stuff she said is stuff she feels she gets at the meetings. Stuff she likes. So that's cool. I like my neighbors' kids despite the fact that they're pretty much hooligans. Well, I like three of the four. The one I have no respect for. Still, they've been there so long they feel almost as much like my siblings as A here and J. I got myself a little Zen garden. I love it. Um…I got Bambi and Beauty and the Beast before they went back in the vault (none of this was my cash).

And I think that's it. So, nighty night, my darlings.