16 October 2014


I have been home now for much longer than I had planned and it is depressing and demoralizing.  To combat bad things from happening that naturally occur when you've had a sudden and unplanned major life change, I've crept back into old habits that I cultivated when I was home with broken bones. (like writing really, really long sentences)

I still keep a schedule, as if I were working.  As Kevin leaves at 5:30 am, this leaves a lot, lot, lot of  times on my hands.  I have twelve hours to entertain myself. 

To keep track of the days so I don't lose time, I assign specific tasks to specific days.  Things like laundry, shopping, and cleaning.  I am literally telling myself at 5:30 in the morning that today is Wednesday so there is laundry and vacuuming to do.  Yes, I'm all up in the glamour here.

My new best friends Gilmore Girls and old best friends Greys Anatomy help pass the time well enough but one can't spend that much time with anyone without getting a little stabby.  The internet actually becomes boring after awhile, go figure.

One of the recommendations for people battling depression is to have a pet.  I've had dogs for the past 23 years and they do provide for a distraction.  They need feeding and to go outside and come back in and to go outside and come back in (x infinity).   They make a person get up in the morning and be somewhat active during the day.

Lucy is different than our other dogs.  She requires one-on-one attention too. Our other dogs were hunters and security kinds of dogs that just wanted to monitor the goings-on outside. Lucy wants to play and have scritches.  She wants to lay on your lap and sleep. 

This is good, I love this about her.  This is also bad because how in the world of sweet baby jesus are you supposed to get anything done when you've got a snuggly, warm puppy on your lap?  In this case, she is a demotivator.  There are simply few reasons to get up when a puppy is sleeping on you.

I know, you're thinking that a person can still read or use the laptop.  Well, the trouble is that she resents both of those forms of entertainment.  She requires the use of your lap and at least one of your arms and those items impinge on her use.

Yes, she is a dog. I can make her get down and I do.  But, really, why would one do that?  What kind of cold-hearted human would make a snuggly puppy move just so you can go to the bathroom or eat or write? 

Yeah, I need to get over this.  But, seriously:

1 comment:

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