The poodle's scared of me.

I’m at my father’s house, sitting with him while he watches the Colts-Patriots game on TV. We’re watching Charlie, my brother Dan’s girlfriend’s poodle. Or, rather, my father is petting the dog, trying to stop it from being scared of me. It isn’t working. I horrify the poodle.

Knowing my father wanted to watch football, I brought my laptop and a couple DVDs to keep myself occupied. I figured that I could visit with him during the commercial breaks, and I could knock out an episode of the REUNION in the meantime. But every time my father hears the keys click, he looks over at me.

I’m listening to RealPlayer, so I can’t hear the keys. I should maybe go into the other room. But I don’t know.

This is a weird visit. This is a weird weekend. I keep thinking about my office and my job. And I have a sick feeling in my stomach about it – not everything feels all right.

I’ve somehow made tentative plans with Vic, Kacoon and Marley for tomorrow. But nothing’s set. The only thing I know I’m doing tomorrow is going to see my therapist tomorrow, and I owe him money.

I was thinking of going into my office for an hour or so – cleaning up my already-clean workload a little bit more. I thought I could do all the Internet-based work possible – the stuff that doesn’t require me calling anyone.

But I’m not sure. Maybe that’s a panic move.

The game has 11 seconds left in the fourth quarter. OK, seven seconds now. And New England’s in the lead. And they have control of the ball. They’re letting the clock run. They’re the AFC champions.

The NFC championship is next. My dad’s preparing for that now.

The poodle’s staring at me. He’s not happy.