On edge

Sam plays with what is the best toy in the world. This dog jingles and the ears and tail crinkle. Sam took some of my pointers and here uses his hind legs to get some kicks in while he grabs the face.

So, the title. Yeah, everyone is a little on edge around here. Maybe it's the Arctic blast the weatherman is talking about. Sam is, right now actually, screaming his head off. He has decided that naps aren't so great. Jen has been crying all morning because, hey, no naps mean no break for her. Oh, and the whole lack of sleep thing takes away one's will to live. Couple that with the fact that Sam's jaws are getting stronger and he likes to practice pinching with Jen's nipples. That woman pops the ibuprofin like it's candy. And Josh, well, Josh is the sole breadwinner... until Jen's Pulitzer-prize novel hits shelves. Josh is also sad because Jen isn't making seven different xmas cookies this year. Wha??? No army of gingerbread men in tie-dye? Sam has been crying for 30 minutes. No, he's not wet or poopy, he's just a big crybaby. Then there's me. I'm depressed. I know this utility room like the back of my paw. I have rubbed my cheek on every surface so that the whole place smells like me (and probably has blood on it, too). What is left to do? It's raining today, so I'm watching it fall outside my locked cat door.