Alpha-female Part II and Sisterhood of the Traveling Workout Pants

Today’s dog walk went much smoother than yesterday’s. I kept Eddie on a short leash and did not allow him to walk ahead of me. If he’d try to stop, I’d give him a little tug and ignore the yipes and choking sounds (kidding).

Thankfully he didn’t do his stopping thing in the park again. He kept walking casually and even allowed some other dogs give him the old sniff sniff. The other dogs’ owner remembered Eddie from yesterday and yelled that “we’ll get Eddie out of his shell.” Yesterday he’d asked if we (Eddie or I) knew the other Boston terriers that frequent the park. Shamefully, I do not know them because I just started walking my dog. I’m a terrible mother.

TRAVELING WORKOUT PANTS

When I got to the gym yesterday, I strolled over to my usual locker (I must use the same one every time and have panic attacks when someone else is using it) and low and behold my workout pants are not in my bag. I look again, unpack everything, look again. No pants. Great. I packed up and went to the front desk and asked if they were in the lost and found. They were not. I checked my car. Not there. Since I don’t bring my stinky clothes in the house after I workout (except once a week when I wash them), this means I must have left them in the locker room after my last workout and either:

1. Someone found them and decided to keep them for herself. The dirty broad.

2. No one found them and they are sitting in some dirty corner all lonely and dirty.

I can’t afford new workout pants right now, so I guess I’ll be working out in my undies.