Bear, Blowers, and Burnout: A Week in the Wild Suburbs


Chihuahua dramatically collapsing into a blanket after surviving leaf blowers and emotional laborThis week has been... a lot. Like, "Why is my life suddenly a crossover episode of Animal Planet and HGTV with guest appearances by Corporate Torture?" levels of a lot.

Let’s begin with the heart of the household: Bear — my slightly dramatic, sometimes snuggly, always suspicious chihuahua. 

🐾 Bear’s Week of Suspicion, Side-Eyes, and Soft Treats

Bear has decided that he no longer trusts the air, the stairs, or me when I approach from his blind side. One minute he’s curled up like a cinnamon bun, the next he’s yelping like I’ve tried to steal his Netflix password.

We went to the vet (again), where he put on a brave face and then proceeded to milk the sympathy like a pro. Diagnosis? No ear infection. No back issue. Just a very good boy who’s a little sore and a little scared.

Which, honestly, same.

He’s now on pain meds, back to picking fights with the other two dogs (because love), and letting me scratch his ears if I approach with the proper ritual and clearance. He even climbed the stairs again like a tiny triumphant mountain goat. We’re healing — emotionally and orthopedically.


❄️ Enter: Diva Duct Queen (aka My Brand New HVAC)

Some people get new shoes. Some get new cars. Me? I got a new HVAC system that cost the equivalent of a luxury vacation to Iceland plus a glacier adoption fee.

This thing now controls my home’s climate like a moody runway model — fabulous, powerful, and absolutely refusing to perform unless every variable is exactly to her liking. She keeps the house at a crisp 76, occasionally gets passive-aggressive when the humidity isn’t right, and has opinions about airflow. 

But hey, at least she’s quiet… unlike the crew that installed her. If noise was part of the warranty, we got the premium package.


💻 Meanwhile, In Corporate Purgatory…

Now let’s talk about work — that place where dreams go to be rescheduled, and your calendar is no longer your own. This week was meetings. So. Many. Meetings. 

I’ve been summoned to Zoom calls I didn’t know existed, about topics I didn’t know I touched, by people who didn’t know I wasn’t the department’s oracular process improvement wizard.

“Can you join us real quick?” they ask, as if I’m not already stacked like a game of Jenga with deadlines. I start at 5:30 AM. Not because I’m a morning person — no, I’m just a spreadsheet sorceress with no backup and a need to get ahead of the chaos. 

By lunch, I’ve run reports, chased down orders, and had three existential crises. If this week were a candle scent, it would be “Burnt Out with Hints of Resentment.”


💤 Conclusion: Please Send Naps and Snacks

In summary:

  • Bear is recovering and milking it like the tiny furry con artist he is.

  • My HVAC is sassy, expensive, and probably planning to unionize.

  • Work is... work. Which is to say, it’s a lot and no one’s paying me OT — but I am earning emotional overtime, if that’s a thing.

If you need me, I’ll be under a blanket, cuddling Bear, sipping lukewarm coffee, and pretending my inbox is just a suggestion box from the void.

Stay cool. Or at least temperature-controlled.

—Michelle (and Bear, honorary co-author 🐾)

Got a moody dog or a diva duct system of your own? Tell me about it in the comments — we can form a support group. 😅



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