We’re pulling the loose ends together here and coming up with something that resembles a routine. But it’s been touch and go for the past week.
Each morning we try to find the perfect doggie plan. The backyard isn’t yet fenced, and there are certain members of this pack that will take advantage of that (like Topper, who took off for a half hour, ate something that caused him to go into some sort of breathing fit resulting in a trip to the vet). One morning we tried everyone at once, thinking the well-behaved dogs (Zsa Zsa, Hokie and Abby) would encourage the Baker Street Irregulars to stick around for breakfast.
The result was a fiasco of overweight, middle-aged people in their pajamas running about the yard screaming and waving their arms. I’m surprised the neighbors weren’t lined up to watch the next morning’s performance.
Then there was the morning we finally worked out the whole doggie issue so well, I had time to start the coffee while waiting for the puppies to finish their food. Only I forgot to put the pot into the coffee maker.
And sleep. I tried everything: Tylenol PM, Advil PM, and, finally, when I couldn’t stand one more night staring into the darkness, an Ambien given to me by A Concerned Relative. I’ve never, ever taken a sleeping pill before, never taken any drug, really. And, yeah, it put me to sleep. I didn’t feel like I had slept, but it did make those long hours of darkness go away. No dreaming, which I think is vital for my mental health.
But then, last night, finally, sleep. Actual sleep with no more of a sedative than my book. And I dreamed – I couldn’t tell you about what, but I remember dreaming.
So this morning I find myself actually able to think and – there it is – feel like I can handle what’s going on without the “woe is me” expression on my face. Is this allowed when you are declaring bankruptcy? Or am I required to walk up and down the streets, self-flagellating and begging forgiveness? What’s the protocol?
Well, just know that I’m a lot more productive for society not having a nervous breakdown. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gravity of what has happened. But I can’t live in despair. Apparently I’m not like that. I tried to stay depressed, didn’t I? But there was this morning and there was ‘Pode curled up in the curve of Dirtman’s leg and there was Zsa Zsa wiggling her butt and robins on the lawn and I couldn’t help but think, “This isn’t so bad.”
How surprising, especially in my family, to find that I am, after all, an optimist.