That was the retort I came up with, 30 minutes too late, to my neighbor, who was admonishing Daisy, his pit bull, to pay no attention to Rex, who was barking his fool head off at Daisy from his side of the fence, because "he's not a REAL dog." How many steaming piles of dog poo has he ever had to clean up after from Rex? None--unlike his dogs, who he condones letting fly in our yard. How many enormous muddy paw prints from Rex has he ever had to wipe from his light colored carpeting because we've been unable to keep him--a much smaller size, I might add--from escaping into his yard? Again, not once. So what makes a "real" dog, I ask you? Reproductive organs? Or the ability to live with humans?
The fence work, which continued today, is, I think, almost completed. Thank FSM, cuz I gots a lot of lounging around on the deck to do, and having my neighbor with his nail-pounding, compressor-roaring, "shut UPing" ways in my backyard is putting me way off my relaxation feed.
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M is flying out tomorrow with his family to Iowa bury his grandma beside her husband. Unfortunately, the process is not going smoothly. But hopefully it will all work out in time.
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So M is gone and I'm a lonely bachelorette. When I leave town, I come home to an undisturbed fridge and an inordinate amount of pizza boxes in the garbage can. Since I have the whole week off, I decided it was my turn to a gastrointestinal indulgence. But I had a dilemma tonight--white trash or gourmet bachelorette? Would it be brie, a perfectly ripe avocado, assorted Greek olives, and a succulent Temperanillo? Or Pringles, Miller Lite, and Kettle Korn? And of course the answer is, "Why choose?"
In other non-food related plans for the week, I will (of course) be working, but I also plan to be personally productive as well. And so far, two days in, I feel successful.
Yesterday I joined two friends for a hike at Pt. Reyes (though I didn't stretch before the walk, and boy was I hurting--I don't do eight miles like I used to) followed by lunch in Pt. Reyes Station. Today I spent cleaning the house, which really needed it, and will continue more tomorrow. This will free up the mental space to start a couple of knitting projects, a poem about hands vs. wings, and to indulge in lots of sleep over the next week. I think I'm in heaven. Though of course it's a working heaven.
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Speaking of sleep and of heaven, I had an awful dream the other night. I was in Southern California, and heard on the news that I had been killed in a terrible attack. The scene changed, and there I was in a campground (Big Bear Lake?), limp in a camp chair trying to pretend I was already dead or asleep as a bear rummaged through the garbage can nearby. It sensed I wasn't asleep and came over, began to paw me. Since I knew from the news report that I was dead, it dawned on me that I was about to experience an excruciatingly painful death…it wasn't the being dead part that frightened me but the dying part, being ripped limb from limb by the long claws and slavering jaws of huge bear. I woke myself up rather than experience that, and thought about taking "Grizzly Man" off my netflix list. I could not get back to sleep.
You Stephen Colbert fans may find it funny, but it was not, I assure you!
