Let me back up a moment.
So it's really down to the wire now -- just a few more days of work before the big sabbatical -- a whole hunk of days off, all strung together in a row (94, in case you didn't think I was counting). And, as you can imagine, I'm a little keyed up. This makes very little logical sense. Really, no matter where work + life is in two days, I'm done. I should be skipping in the hallways. I should have a face that looks like this:
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| Wind in my hair, lightness in my heart |
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| WTF is going on right now? |
(Side note: I have a strong dislike for most dogs. When I was growing up, my neighbors had scores of ill-behaved dogs who chased us pretty regularly. I've come to find that it's not dogs per se that I dislike, but irresponsible dog owners. I could give you a long list of stories. So no, I don't want to pet your dog, and when he jumps on me, it's not cute. My cat goes in a bedroom if people are afraid of cats because, hey, let's be courteous. Or, as a bumper stick I saw a few weeks ago read, "Your dog loves you, but everyone else thinks you're an asshole.")
Anyway. His name is not actually Smash. I christened him/it that a few weeks ago when I had the desire to smash in his face. This is a small little white dog that is incredibly stupid, brash, ill-trained (probably not trained, to be honest), and dumb as a box of rocks. Yes, I commented on the dog's lack of intelligence twice. That's how dumb it is. It also poops in my well-groomed yard, which makes me seethe.
In my left hand, I had my car keys, and in my right, a package that had been left on the porch (the aforementioned Gifts of Imperfection, which is about authenticity, the reason I ordered it). Smash, not realizing that he is fifteen or twenty pounds soaking wet (Astrix could take him down easily) bared his teeth, started barking, and ran straight for me while I was in my own yard. There was this sort-of creepy moment when I thought to myself, You know, I think he's really going to bite my leg! What I am I going to do about this? So I did what I thought I should do to aggravate him -- I barked and growled back. It had been a stressful day, I was tired and had low blood sugar, and it seemed like a good idea.
Smash went ape. And so I had to make a split-second decision as he charged -- and I smacked him really good with my book. I mean, really good, while yelling "HEY! COME GET YOUR GODDAMNED DOG! "I don't condone cursing (and I know there were neighborhood children within earshot) but this dog was freakin' nuts. It took two good smacks before he ran off, barking over his shoulder. I know the war isn't over, but it felt good to finally take a battle. I have half a mind to redeposit his poop in his yard -- with a shovel, of course.
(Side note: I have met about four or five dogs I actually like. They have never pooped in my yard, charged me, or acted f-crazy -- just in case you think I'm a horrible person.)
That zen-Sarah that is supposed to appear? She's not here yet. This is still stressed-Sarah who, despite being just a few days from months of freedom, is wired, confused, and waiting for that magic pill of vacation to kick in. Today has been a WTF-face day where I kept waiting for the calm to wash over me.
That's when I remembered that calm doesn't wash over you if you don't submerge yourself in it. Cue an hour of piano and some stretching, and some obligatory cat petting. And not just any cat, but a cat who is now learning to spin (in addition to the seve other tricks).
It was a nice evening, in the end, because I think, every so often, I need another reminder why I'm taking a break :)
xo
Sarah
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