It's My Dog's World: I Just Live In It

Don't Make A White Woman Start a Blog (with apologies to Tyler Perry, and absolutely none to Dell)

First off, I need a new category.  My life doesn't suck.  Just my new purchasing a computer experience.  Because I love the Web, and love what it can do as a business tool, I believed the Dell is out of Dell Hell hype.  I believed the hype that Dell had changed, that their brand new spanking Web 2.0 bloggy blogginess had cleaned up their customer support, their service, their delivery.  Well, maybe for others.  But not for me.  DHL managed to NOT deliver my printer for almost two weeks, lie when they said they were going to come, blame me because the guys on the trucks only sometimes manage to deliver in the evening.

Then there's the matter of my power cord.  Which doesn't fit smoothly into the AC adapter.  My Dell customer support, very nice woman, sent me a new power cord. Which doesn't fit at all into the power outlet OR the AC adapter.  Natasha, my customer support agent, received my "Hey, it doesn't work" e-mail several days ago, but  perhaps she is busy updating Dell's bloggy blog.

In any event, Dell's lost my business, and probably lost it more definitively BECAUSE they've been bragging on their crowdsourcing.  Meanwhile, I'm very tempted to start my own "I hate Dell" blog...once I buy a new power cord. From a human being.

At Staples.

My Life Needs An Invisible Upgrade, Typepad...Can You Help?

Let's face it. Compared to the average kid in Africa (and thanks to Madonna and Angelina Jolie, even complete celebrity sluts are learning more about that), my life doesn't suck at all.  It is abundant and magnificent. We have our health, our home, our dog.  I am drinking coffee I made from fresh-ground beans, from water I can be reasonably sure is clean. (Right, New Jersey?)

But.

This year has sucked. 

Yes, I am a glamorous author of two pet books.  But publicizing the book has been hard work.   Don't get me wrong: there is nothing like seeing your name in print. There is nothing like having  the nice woman who works at your gym say, "Are you an author?"  I've loved doing radio shows, TV, newspapers.  I've gotten a positive review in "The Bark," the New Yorker of dog magazines.  But there's a gazillion books out there, and I've had a lot of life going on, and I haven't been able to give it my all.

Herewith, my Jobish tale of woe.

My mother-in-law died after a struggle with cancer.

We (husband, dog, I) moved to Boston for a job that did not pan out.

We moved back.

Husband is still looking for job. (I am gainfully employed with people I adore...but it is anxious there, right now, and I feel all the stress and more.  On the other hand, right outside my building, I saw Jay-Z once. Smiling. He has a beautiful smile.)

Husband broke ankle Labor Day weekend.  So I've been solo on: dishwashing, laundry, chores, food shopping, food preparing, nursing (mostly wrapping his ankle) and...oh yeah, dog walking.  Exhausted does not begin to cover it.

Miraculously, despite shorter walks (I have to go to work sometime,) our dog is at her optimal weight. Not so miraculously, I have gained back all the weight I took off just before I started writing the book.  Brownies have been my reliable friend.

Things could be worse. In fact, they were, between 1984 and 1985.  But that is another post. In the meantime, I have lapsed into the New Age version of myself, writing on slips of paper, "I release this terrible year," ripping them up, and hoping that things shift.

So, if anyone's reading this, send me a good vibe.  I know things could be worse. For most of the people of this world, they actually are.  At the moment, knowing that does not help in the least.