Some days you're the boot, other days you're the ass

Yesterday was a really bad day.  Actually, most of the day went along fairly well, albeit full regular work stress.

But things fell apart starting at 4pm when, despite guidance to the contrary, the lousy leadership we have at my company decided that we did too good of a job in revising our 2010 budget and now want us to make it a little less optimistic (below the unofficial targets they gave us).

So, despite the fact that we are working double-time to finalize our 3rd quarter forecast, we have to basically rework almost everything we had been working on all week.

My role in the process is a little further downstream.  I have to wait for some of the detailed cost center adjustments before I can put the finishing touches on the P&L, reload it and then tackle the task of updating all of the Power Point slides for our Senior VP to review over the weekend before he heads to Saudi Arabia.  We have a preliminary review on Tuesday.

Well, I could not tackle much last night, so left work around 7:15pm, after 12 hours in the office, and headed home on wet roads.

I flip the radio on to listen to my favorite baseball team, the St. Louis Cardinals play the L.A. Dodgers.  Sounds good so far, they lead 2-1.

By the time I reach home, they have lost the game and now are in a 2-0 whole.  Tough to get out of, though they are capable of it.

So, two nasty strikes on a bleak night.  I arrive home after 8pm, wanting to play with my dogs.  Feeling bad about the long day.  Knowing that Friday will be just as bad with a possibility of working on Sunday and having them hang out in crates in the car for that.

I had gotten into the habit of having Duff and Robbie eat their breakfast and dinner near each other, outside of crates, for years.  Trouble is, Robbie has been on a diet of mostly boiled potatoes to settle his tummy since Monday, so he eats slower.

Ghilley is safe in her crate with her meal, though she wants to be loose.

Well, round 1 taught me that I can no longer be so casual.  Duff usually goes to clean out Robbie's bowl (Robbie always eats faster) after he's done.  Trouble is, Robbie was not finished yet.  Dog fight!  Separated them without blood-letting but Robbie is sporting a sore leg from the power of Duff's jaws.

A little later, Robbie's hanging out in his crate, his favorite place to go if he's wiped out or nervous.  Ghilley was wired, making fun mad puppy dashes and laps around the place.

I decided she may need some play time with me to help take off a little energy.  After a few minutes, she wanted doggie play time.  I was in the kitchen for a brief moment when I heard Ghilley cry out.  She had chosen to pummel Duff and he was giving her a correction.  My only problem, Robbie beat me to Duff.  Another tangle with Ghilley on the sidelines and okay.

All dogs in their crates.  I am now mentally exhausted to go with my physical exhaustion.  I make my final mistake of the night and call a friend.

You know, you should never make a call when the chances are high that you are going to get kicked when you are down.  The advise was firmly and unemotionally delivered.  I needed a little more compassion to start out but my mode of getting it was the wrong one.

The advise is sage and quite right, I am not the clear pack leader here.  That needs to change.  But it has been a butt-kicking week at work and the last thing I needed was another wallop to my head.

This morning started out okay, but Ghilley kind of wondered why she was leashed and attached to my belt.  Robbie is a little too sore to want to play.  When they play, Duff will be attached to me.

Breakfast was all in crates, which my guys like and were fine with.  We just have to figure out the rest as we go.

The schedule this week is highly unusual.

I hope to be home earlier today and Saturday is mostly a doggie day.  I have dinner plans that night but now will have to see if my mood is up for it.

I hope and pray that Sunday will be spent at home and not at work.