I'm just gonna come out and say it.
Corporate Behemoth is stressing me out.
Or, rather, I'm choosing to be stressed out by Corporate Behemoth. It's making me brittle. Brittle and crabby. Brittle and crabby, yet subdued.
Today, I came home to find that Lil' Frankfurter, little angel that he is, discovered that by gnawing on the cushion in his kennel, he can access mounds and mounds and mounds of fiberfill. This is also the same sort of fiberfill that I occasionally find in his poop. It's the sort of fiberfill that makes his mama crazy.
Along with the cushion destruction, there's also Lil' Frank's proven ability to chew on his blankets and the fact that he's gone through six water dishes in the last year. Water dishes of hard plastic. He gets mad and breaks the brackets that hold them to the kennel.
Yes, my dog looks like a rabid hound from the lowest depths of Dante's Inferno. Yes, my dog weighs seven pounds. Yes, that's a lot of destruction per pound of dachshund.
So, I cleaned up the fiberfill and inspected the latest water dish. Then, I realized that the kid is sending me a message: he's just annoyed with his daily surroundings and routine. He needs more enrichment.
So, basically, Lil' Frank just trashed his cubicle.
I'm now having visions of really sticking it to Corporate Behemoth. I'll chew up all the papers in my cube and leave the frustration confetti everywhere. I'll break my office chair and knock my monitor off the desk. And then, when I'm reprimanded? I'll follow Lil' Frank's lead and look innocent and adorable.
Sounds like a plan, right? Right?