How much regret can one woman take?

Regular readers of HouseGoesHome will know regret is a recurring theme in my life. I’m such a seething hotbed of guilt I should have been born Catholic …

For example, I was crushed by regret last week after flying off the handle and saying something that set a whole spiral of misery in motion.

That was HORRIBLE.

Then there’s everything I regret not doing to save my marriage. The more distance I get from it, the more I understand my role in its demise.

I oozed regret when I lost my job a few years back for defending Kathleen Folbigg. As I said at the time “I believe I did the right thing on Tuesday, standing up for a friend. But I regret not giving more consideration to how the consequences would make me – and others – feel. And I wish innocent people hadn’t been caught in the cross fire.”

Other regrets I voiced back then that still make me squirm now …

>> Being a surly every time my great-grandmother tried to engage me in conversation.

>> Kissing that 16-year-old boy with no front teeth at the school disco.

>> Putting off going to see a dying man and not getting the chance to say goodbye.

>> A few ill-advised bedfellows.

>> That quarter of a crumbling sandstone mansion I bought during a nesting frenzy (then sold it at a loss three years later).

>> Scrubbing the red wine stain on my friend’s new carpet so vigorously I damaged the pile.

>> Forgetting the tooth fairy was supposed to come.

Finally … my big regret this week … getting my dog Charlie. Sure, he’s cutest canine on the planet. Don’t believe me? Here’s the puppy proof …

But, as I’ve previously mentioned, when you get a dog as revenge on your husband the only person you really punish is yourself, because he leaves and you’re left with the needy animal.

And then you buy another one to keep him company during those long hours you’re at work.

Now, whenever I want to go away, it’s a mad scramble to get them looked after … at vast expense.

I’m ducking off with the kids this weekend and paying $80 to have Charlie and Bilbo dog-sitted by a little old lady called Marlene between 9am on Saturday and 3pm on Sunday.

I’m oozing regret about that $80 … which I will be paying again in a few weeks when I need a sitter for the night.

I am madly in love with my furry babies – one is curled up on my lap as I type – but if I had my time over … nup, I wouldn’t have bought the first one and therefore wouldn’t have doubled the inconvenience with a second one.

Over dinner the other night, I advised a few mums with kids desperate for a dog: DON’T DO IT!!!!

But I’ve done it and they’re my responsibility for the next 15 years. I’ve told the kids they’re taking them when they move out … like that’s ever gonna happen.

Charlie and Bilbo will be stinking up my retirement apartment, pissing on the legs of the outdoor furniture and barking at shadows.

Sigh.

Do you have any regrets? 

Song of the day: Ugly Kid Joe “Cat’s in the cradle”