I have spent the entire day convinced that it’s Sunday. Nevermind that I went to church YESTERDAY (which should’ve been my first clue), but the whole Monday-holiday thing, it confuses me. I cannot be expected to follow along.
I was supposed to spent today sorting and pitching the ever-growing contents of some of my closets, but that’s hard to do with a helper who likes to chew on things. With the dog here, it became clear that cleaning was not meant to be. (Oh! Twist my arm! Keep me from being productive! Okay!)
Just so that I wouldn’t feel like a total slug, I decided to take the dog for a nice long walk.
I’d actually tried to walk her yesterday, and we didn’t stay out for very long. She was utterly uncontrollable on the leash, and it was pretty hot and miserable out. But today I had renewed resolve. I put the leash on her and off we went.
Today was slightly cooler, and there was a nice breeze. I thought that would help, you know, because it was more comfortable. In reality, a good strong breeze is apparently the ultimate puppy overload, because instead of there just being things to sniff on the ground, there are smells EVERYWHERE! She had to sniff low and high and everywhere inbetween. Every time the wind gusted, she stopped and put her nose in the air and I swear I could hear her little brain spinning in overdrive while she tried to place each and every scent.
I quickly discovered that the dog has only two modes on the leash. GOTTA GO GOTTA SNIFF GOTTA RUN, and HOWZABOUT WE STOP HERE AND HAVE A NAP. So the first lap around the neighborhood, I was constantly trying to reel her in. The second lap, I was fairly dragging her along, as she sank into every shady patch of grass and looked up at me with pleading eyes and her big pink tongue hanging out of her panting mouth. Being the big meanie that I am, I dragged her along for a while longer before returning home.
After a few slurps from the water bowl, she fell into a deep sleep next to my desk. Such hard work requires recuperation, you know.
My friend’s husband came to pick up the dog around dinnertime, and you have never seen an animal so excited. Her people were back! They hadn’t abandoned her! She could go home and poop in her very own yard! It was a touching reunion, truly.
In return for dog-sitting, I had a special favor to ask. On Friday I’d taken out my mower for the first time this season and couldn’t get it started. I was hoping that a mechanically-inclined man might be able to fix or at least diagnose it for me. He looked skeptical but offered to have a look.
“I must’ve pulled the cord 50 times,” I told him as I wheeled it out of the garage. “Of course, now you’ll probably just give it a yank and it’ll start right up! That’d be funny.”
He gave it a yank and it started right up. Freaking show-off, he is.
I believe the official diagnosis, then, is Weak and Puny Operator. Hmph. (Hey, it’s often really hard to do the first start of the season. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)
So I got rid of the dog and mowed the lawn. And remained convinced it was Sunday right up until my ex brought the children back and pointed out that it’s Monday.
Then I realized I’m moving in 4 weeks and I hadn’t packed a damn thing all weekend. Technically I guess I can’t blame that on being confused about what day it was, but I am inches from panic, anyway. Um, anyone want to buy some air conditioners? Or an extra water heater…?