Today was one of those days where the ex was inflicting his pain and I was letting it get to me. Then on the advice of my internet boyfriend, who told me to stop being so damn depressing and blog happy (I am paraphrasing here), I decided that I needed an adrenaline kick. I considered going over to my favorite bar and picking up some bored businessman, but I am cutting back on floozy behavior. So I went home and took Pasha for a run. I am not much of a runner and I haven't eaten since Tuesday, after 2 miles I ended throwing up water on the side of the road. But this is what I needed to change my depression into anger, which I took out on Truck.

Don't worry, I did not hurt my baby, but we did wrestle until I was exhausted. I am sure I will be black and blue tomorrow. The thing about wrestling Truck is that I know he could seriously injure me if I made a mistake. He would not hurt me on purpose, but he is 100 pounds of muscle breed to fight. I rarely play rough with the boy because I do not want to encourage any sort of aggressive behavior in him, but sometimes rolling around on the floor with him so satisfies this death wish that I have. I always feel better after I do something that could potentially kill me.