Today started oddly. As I was getting ready to go to breakfast, I noticed that the garbage truck was parked right next to my can on the street. The driver appeared to be texting someone or maybe he was having an Egg McMuffin for breakfast. When he finished he drove away, completely forgetting to pick up my trash. Damn. I was the only can of the street he skipped. I quickly ran out to the street and pushed my can to an adjacent street to catch the truck on it's return through the neighborhood. I'm glad my hastily improvised plan worked because I have no place to store two week's worth of trash.
A little later at the hotel restaurant I noticed that a well dressed older man sitting next to me was eating a meal that definitely wasn't on the menu. I was intrigued, because this guy's breakfast looked really good. I asked my server if I could order something off the menu too. She gave me an odd look and just said no. How did the old guy get to order whatever he wanted when I couldn't? I'll probably never know because I didn't want to make a scene. The old gentleman was very polite and clearly was accustomed to privilege. This odd little incident made me realize that I'd love to live in a world where I could walk into a restaurant and ask the chef to whip up whatever I wanted. "Menu? We don't need no stinkin' menus," I'd say.
I've totally lost track of what day it is. Probably everybody else has too. The time between Christmas and New Year's is an amorphous mess. I only remembered it was Friday because of chasing the garbage truck this morning and I only remembered to take the trash out last night after Janet reminded me. Basically every day kind of feels like Saturday.
Cleaning up poop doesn't help me remember what day it is because it happens all the time. It's almost easier that Dash poops in his sleep now because I can place a puppy training pad under him. The poop has been landing on the pad pretty consistently now. When I change the pad and put a fresh one under his butt, he often wakes up and decides he needs to pee. I'm still getting up in the middle of the night but the whole process seems more organized.
I got a lot of things done today, but none of them were important. I repaired several of Dash's boots with Shoe Goo. I calibrated and unclogged the large printer. I updated software on my laptop and recharged a bunch of batteries. By the time I was finished it was time for dinner. Janet is always dusting things around the house and told me that refusing to dust is a sign that you've given up. That hurt. I never dust. I actually think dust protects things from scratches.
As a sign that I never give up, I thought I'd go to the gym tomorrow. Hey, in my own dusty way, I'm determined. This plan lasted about thirty seconds because I eventually remembered that tomorrow isn't Sunday. Everything needs to happen on the correct day whether I can remember it or not.
Dot & Petey are today's Dalmatians of the Day |
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