Sometimes my brain just won’t shut off. Having slept for three hours out of a possible eight or nine last night, the good news is I had time to finally publish a fucking entry on Fury this week. The bad news is that I missed my 2 hour ride this morning because the only way I could sleep at 3:30am was to hork two Benadryl and I apparently shut-off my alarm, rising at 6:30am instead. Goodbye ride, farewell endorphin rush. Hello, mediocre day.
I won’t lie and say it’s been anything other than a relatively shit week for The Redhead. We all have them and I guess I was due for one. Hadn’t really had one since July 4th and the whole snapping my ankle in two like a twig. I’m not much for moping, but last night I found myself smack-dab in the middle of Woe-is-Fucking-Meville (and I wasn’t even enjoying the fucking). Between tidying-up for a house guest arriving today and lamenting about how that Money Tree I bought isn’t holding up its end of the bargain, I couldn’t seem to dig my way out of the pissy little hole I’d dug for myself. Prepared to hear someone by the last name of Gumb shout down for me to do something with a bottle of lotion, I opted for wallowing as I’m faced with (yet another) paradigm shift in my day-to-day routine.
And then this morning, I looked at my dogs.
Hippopotamus and Penelope (shut up – they like their names just fine) sleep in a shared crate. Each morning’s routine is to pop open the Puppy Prison and let them outside to “make cookies” and bark rabidly at birds and squirrels. Possibly the most exciting part of their day, they are simply maniacal – like Paris Hilton should you take away her cigarettes and paparazzi.
No matter the day I’m having or the degree to which I think my life sucks nuts, my two canine furballs will, without fail, do one thing: go after what they want with an unabashed, unguarded purpose.
Come to think of it, my cats are the same way.
And along with that purpose comes a never-ending current of affection. Complete love. They will lick their asses, chase a toy and have no qualms about (trying to) lick my face. And all within a three minute window.
And here I am, having spent hours wallowing and waking up every 30 minutes because I couldn’t shut my brain off and appreciate what’s sitting in front of me. And always is. Always has been. I needed to be more dog.
Not that I’m going to go figure out a way to lick my ass, but it’s definitely time to focus on chasing down exactly what it is that I want. I do that more often than not, but it’s really hard to see the forest for the trees when your head is up your ass. It’s time to be more canine…more feline. The essentials (food, water, crapping in appropriate places) are givens.
Now it’s time to shift my thinking and look at the huge bin of squeaky toys that sits next to the TV as a pile of opportunity instead of one filled with slobber-encrusted, once-new things.
Because life will always bring you new things, whether you like it or not. Some will be things you asked for and others…well, others are ones you wish your cat would bury in the litter box. But you can’t identify, much less appreciate, much of anything when your head is up your ass, now, can you?