Well, I was thinking I'd post a little quick note mentioning my birthday present: a new puppy. We got him this morning, and to be honest, I was slightly ambivalent towards the idea of getting a new dog, but Westley (yes, we named him after The Princess Bride) is a cutie and a sweetie. I think I'm still at the point where I don't love him yet, but I do like him, and he makes everybody else happy, so sure I would have liked something else for my birthday, but whatever. (Before you think I'm giving up my birthday present for the sake of family, my sisters and I all have June birthdays, and Westley was a gift for all of us. So I'm giving up my 1/3 of a present for the sake of family. I might make it up to myself later.)

Then Mom and Armine woke me up from a nap (I've been up late editing my video review for Android Karenina, and I lost all my work last night, so I was up extra late) to tell me that the upset stomach we thought he had wasn't stopping, and that the vet thought it was parvo. So I was going to post about how I really couldn't do this again after I lost Sammie back in August. How this is a really sucky thing to happen to a birthday present and sure I don't coo over him and hold him like everybody else does, but that doesn't mean I want him to die, and I'm going to have to apologize to my sisters but I don't think I can just pick another puppy out of a lineup to replace this one. (Long run-on sentence is long.) But apparently we just got word from Dad and Hrayr that the vet says it's not parvo, but the vet hasn't seen him yet to know what it is. So now we're back to the point where I do like him, and I'm sure he'll grow on me, but he still isn't allowed in my room. (For the record, neither is Zoe, who hates the new interloper.)

I think this is what the TV Tropes site calls "mood whiplash."