I hate my camera, my hair and mornings.

Hating my camera is easy these days. I've seen so many amazing bloggers display the most wonderful moments captured with such clarity I feel as if I'm standing there watching them happen. Then I try to take a picture of Lucca sitting on the floor in broad daylight and the piece of poo camera takes what looks like the Lochness (sp) monster on a sea of chest hair. The camera takes mostly crappy pictures and is very picky as to when it will take a good one. You must hold the camera at a 37 degree angle in 180% sunlight with a completely baby blue background beyond your subject and this all has to be done between the hours of noon and 2pm on Tuesdays or Saturdays. Oh, and don't forget that you have to have it on the macro setting while you stand on your head and count to seven in German. No biggie, I'm fluent in German and pretty much prefer to get up around noon.

I did NOT want to get out of bed this morning. This is not to say that I do want to get out of bed on other mornings however, because I pretty much never want to, but today was just horrid. No specific reason, it's not like I'm violently ill or depressed or afraid of daylight, but I just generally don't feel great in the morning and who in their right mind doesn't find being cozy and warm under fifty pounds of downy coverings absolutely delightful. Most mornings I lie there talking myself into the getting up part...

Come on Cam, you can do it, one foot out... it's not going to be that bad.

You HAVE TO get up and let Lucca out, he's not going to cease his whimpering and attacking of your feet until you do and Rocko might just pee right on you if you don't hurry up!

Cam...

CAM!!!!!

CAMERON!!!! This is your bladder talking now, GET THE *@#%! UP!"

And so I eventually rise and dawn some sort of lame clothing substitute for the covers I was dreaming in and let my three pups out to pee while I stand there a bit dazed that I do in fact still have to get myself bathed and looking presentable for work. Today I found just exponentially harder than usual and although I did make it to work, I thought about my bed all day long and how I would just about kill a small kitten to be in it again.

When I returned home this evening to the dog house the whole place smelled like a roasting pit as I had given each of the boys new bones this morning and they were extremely fragrant. All three of them are passed out now from being totally obsessed with said bones for so much of the day and little Lucca especially smells like he's been rolled in a bucket of cedar smoke. I had to wash all of their crate bedding to get the odor under control, you have to wonder what's in that stuff, but I know I checked carefully that it was a good brand and a healthy treat... Now it's on to the hair problems...

I have a MOUSTACHE! Holy freak'n brunettes Batman, do we ever have it tough! Help me out here ladies, the fuzz cometh back with a vengeance no matter what you do, right? Ugh, you probably don't want to hear about it. Just know that the combination of morning and crappy camera along with looking in the mirror and noticing you have a super sexy stache is brutal and I'm barely up for doing it again tomorrow.

Don't worry Cam, you have so many other things going for you!

Yes, I suppose I do. Thanks.