The lake is a stew-- maybe a vichyssoise. It's 50 degrees today, the water is pouring off of the roof, puddles are gathering and waiting to become icy slides for bootless ramblers.
I am restless. As a recovering drama-addict I need a little bit of excitement to keep me afloat. My brain needs a bone to chew-- which is maybe why I've become a bit obsessed with adopting a dog. I search petfinder.com daily. I read doggie owner tips. I've requested Cesar Millan's books from the library. I've got a quote for fixing our tree-crunched dog kennel. I spend a lot of time considering invisible fences. Are they cruel? Obo says yes.
But this doggie business is too far away and nebulous. I don't really know if I'm ready for another toddler in my life, and I don't want to break a canine heart.
So I left R a voicemail yesterday saying, "I'm tearing down walls now," and I got as far as pulling down the doors before R put a halt on my destruction. In my defense, I thought we had agreed upon and settled all of our renovation desires, but I forgot how much R likes to ponder things before he acts upon them. I'm a jump-in-and-see-what-happens kind of a gal. R, however, is not that kind of guy, and it's probably a good thing. Mostly I think we balance each other out fairly well, but right now I'm feeling like the scale is all weighted on his side: no vacation and no renovation-- at least not yet.
He says, "You just went to California!" Yes, I know. But what's next, Baby? I've got ants in my pants.
I realized last night, as we were going around in circles about the wall tear-down (or lack of), that the excitement I am seeking is not in arguing with my husband. So today I rearranged the kitchen sitting area. It's not quite the destruction and resulting glorious view of the lake I was anxious to have yesterday, but it'll get me through today. I'm not sure about tomorrow.
I am restless. As a recovering drama-addict I need a little bit of excitement to keep me afloat. My brain needs a bone to chew-- which is maybe why I've become a bit obsessed with adopting a dog. I search petfinder.com daily. I read doggie owner tips. I've requested Cesar Millan's books from the library. I've got a quote for fixing our tree-crunched dog kennel. I spend a lot of time considering invisible fences. Are they cruel? Obo says yes.
But this doggie business is too far away and nebulous. I don't really know if I'm ready for another toddler in my life, and I don't want to break a canine heart.
So I left R a voicemail yesterday saying, "I'm tearing down walls now," and I got as far as pulling down the doors before R put a halt on my destruction. In my defense, I thought we had agreed upon and settled all of our renovation desires, but I forgot how much R likes to ponder things before he acts upon them. I'm a jump-in-and-see-what-happens kind of a gal. R, however, is not that kind of guy, and it's probably a good thing. Mostly I think we balance each other out fairly well, but right now I'm feeling like the scale is all weighted on his side: no vacation and no renovation-- at least not yet.
He says, "You just went to California!" Yes, I know. But what's next, Baby? I've got ants in my pants.
I realized last night, as we were going around in circles about the wall tear-down (or lack of), that the excitement I am seeking is not in arguing with my husband. So today I rearranged the kitchen sitting area. It's not quite the destruction and resulting glorious view of the lake I was anxious to have yesterday, but it'll get me through today. I'm not sure about tomorrow.
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