Monday, January 4, 2016
Yesterday was a strange day. Our dog walker asked if she could steal Red for an overnight adventure with her dogs on Saturday, so we were sans canine until 8pm last night. Over 24 hours without the seat stealer. I'm aware of how much structure the dog adds to our days, but it's even more obvious when he's gone. I didn't leave the house before lunch, which made me feel cagey and lazy. This of course makes no sense because we ran 10.7 miles the day before and spent nearly the entire day on our feet. But my brain has a pretty strong reset button for physical activity. More than an hour on my butt, and I suddenly feel like I've done nothing for days. Anyway, there was no real excuse to leave the house again after I had run my piddly afternoon errand, so I didn't go out again until about 5:45 when we went to a friend's house for dinner. The cats were living the dream, soaking up the sun spots they don't have access to when the dog is around, but I felt inexplicably cranky. Well, not inexplicably. I knew what was happening and also knew that I had a serious case of the Sundays. Clearly I should have taken myself for a walk! And now a bit of short form for the day. It has nothing to do with the dog because I came up blank on that front and it's almost past my bedtime. Instead, I bring you my experience of getting stuck behind a man who clearly did not know that my hanger could maim him with its pinky finger because he made me miss my train by about two seconds:
down the stairs, the only soul
fucking move over
*a few minutes later: I've realized that this is redundant because lumbering is by definition slow, but I'm trying really (really) hard not to get uptight about this whole haiku thing. Could they be better? Always. Am I going to go back and "fix" them? No. Do I feel compelled to point out the pitfalls so you don't think I've missed them? Apparently.
picture: Red basking in the glory of the Hudson River (or panting because we just walked up a doozy of a hill in 85 degree heat), summer 2015, near Howell Ridge, upstate NY, cross-processed slide film, Canon Tlb