This is going to be my version of a unicorn chaser for the hate and bile of the last post. The only hate allowed around here? Wrecks, hatin' on his new travel crate.
You all want to come rescue him, don't you?
Good Morning and Goodnight
I was home sick from work today, slept all day, and now it's 10 pm and I have that too-much-sleep-hangover feeling and my brain is kind of scattered all over the place, so forgive me this one, my friends.
Tomorrow is only Wednesday and I already feel like this week has been about 12 days too long. It's a combination of being busy busy busy and now feeling bleh. I'm also taking a road trip this weekend, destination TBA, and there are the usual stresses of getting things in order for that. Wrecks will be heading back to the Stately Manor for the weekend for visitation with Old Daddy. (I haven't watched My Name Is Earl in 2 months and yet I say that in Dodge's voice in my head!)
Young Middle-aged Mr. Wrecks is the topic of many of my conversations lately because it's pretty well-known that he's not so good at handling change, and boy have I turned his world all kinds of upside-down lately. We have had a rough couple of weeks for which I share equal blame for jacking up his sleep schedule just as much as he jacks up mine. And I really think that's all it boils down to at the moment, our agitation with each other - we are never asleep or awake at the same time anymore.
And then there was the "Wait, what do you mean, this isn't a frisbee?" incident.
But then there are days like today, when I can't bear to get out of bed, and he curls up against me doesn't sleep, but just breathes, and we're cool. In mid-May, Wrecks and I will have known each other for 8 years.
My friend Meaddows brought Wrecks this bone-shaped boomerang toy thing when she came to visit last fall, and he's just recently started paying attention to it. We spend long stretches of time in the backyard when I get home from work every day, playing fetch, which is something that Wrecks only sporadically participates in. He's not always a fan of fetch. But our new house has dogs on either side of the fence line, and when those dogs are out, Wrecks is a fetch fanatic. Each time I throw the orange flying thing, he races for it, and then circles slowly and methodically around the yard with it in his mouth, almost tripping over it as he runs down the fence line, taunting the neighbor dogs. Little jerk. Little adorable jerk.
He's curled up in a basket of my clean clothes that I hadn't gotten put away yet and I don't even have the mental strength to be annoyed with him tonight. I'm just going to head to bed and try to convince us both that it's time to sleep again, even though we both just woke up.
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