Too bad I can’t tell you about it. It’s too close to nonymity. But I’m happy to say that something decent has happened for Plagioclase (and by extension, me).
It’s one of those things that you’re afraid will go the “wrong” way because of bureaucracy, but it somehow happened to work out in a good way.
We needed that.
Albite came running to me, fussing about the people who had the temerity to walk on the sidewalk in front of our his house. Barking at them apparently had no effect, so he was calling me to get my butt out there to do something.
To his great disgust, I ignored him. “But, Albite,” I crooned, “they’re allowed to walk there, and you know they do that every evening.” He just stared at me — ears up, eyes bright, willing me to Get Up and Do Something!
So I did. I stood up to see what he would do. He trotted a few feet away and looked back at me, then looked towards the front room. I took a step, and he ran ahead a few more feet. After a few more rounds of this, he took off for the front door, certain that I had finally got his meaning, and if I didn’t have to chase the strangers off, then, well, we might as well go for a walk in front.
This was probably his aim all along. “Go for a walk in front” is a big treat for him, because he is most emphatically not a Canine Good Citizen, so we don’t do it very often.
But when I got near the door, I veered off into another room. It was cruel, I know, but really for the best. He hates getting his ears wet, and it’s been raining on and off all evening. Poor guy. Maybe tomorrow.
I’m feeling a bit envious of the people who are preparing for the new school year. Teacher or student doesn’t matter; I wish I was doing the same.
I like the first weeks of school and the time before it — it’s a chance to start afresh, to forget last year’s mistakes and boredom and panic and to plan on doing this year right this time. I like buying supplies. The paper, pens, pencils, and notebooks that I’m going to organize right this time so I can be sure to meet all of my commitments this year. I like getting new clothes, so this year I can be stylish and everyone will forget how dorky I was last year.
Well, it never worked when I was going to school, but I still hold fast to the fantasy of the new beginning when September rolls around. Now, however, I don’t have to worry so much about the fantasy not living up to reality. I’m not sure it’s a good trade off, but at least I don’t have to get up for an 8 o’clock class.
Is there something in our genetic makeup that kicks in when we reach a certain age that makes us keep crappy stuff because “it’s perfectly good” or “someone could use that” or “it was a gift, so it can’t be got rid of”?
Is there something about electromagnetic radiation exposure that makes us do goofy things, like complain about crappy television, but watch it every evening for 5 hours? We can’t watch during the day, because that is “just not done” — instead we read books all afternoon and miss all the good reruns.
Is there something we ingest that over time accretes stubbornness, making us think it’s perfectly reasonable to not use a cane though it would help with walking, or that there’s no need to tell the doctor that our peripheral vision is blanking out on occasion because it comes back?
What’s that you say? It’s a normal part of growing older? Oh.
Removing silicone caulk is almost as bad as removing wallpaper. Try to minimize its use.
