Calgon, take me away!
(Okay, I know that reference probably dates me considerably. But if you get it, I know you hear what I’m saying.)
Suffice to say I’m feeling a bit spread thin right now. Everything’s just so busy, and I really need, like, three days away from the computer and phone. Preferably on an exotic isle somewhere, with a fruity drink with an umbrella sticking out of it. I keep telling myself to take some time off, just let things lie, but of then ten more things pop up that need to be done NOW, and it’s just not possible. For instance, last night Coco went out in the yard and rolled in something. Now, none of my other dogs have ever been rollers. They just weren’t interested. But Coco, from the time she was very tiny, has liked nothing more than to find something incredibly pungent in the yard and just hurl herself upon it, over and over again. Usually, it’s not that bad—sometimes, it’s even fresh cut grass, which makes her smell like summer to me—but last night, whatever it was she found was of a high stink. Phew. And I’d had a busy night: I’d paid bills, made a batch of cookies, did laundry, hung out with Courtney and watched Veronica Mars. I was ready for bed. But before I could do that, I had to give Coco a bath, simply because it Could Not Wait. Now I have to watch her like a hawk every time she goes outside to make sure she doesn’t do it again.
In other (related) news, I’m realizing lately that I really need to stop focusing on the negative. Like, why is it that out of a hundred people, ninety-five can say something nice, but I only remember (i.e. dwell on) the five who don’t? It reminds me of when I used to waitress, and I’d have fifty tables a night, forty-eight of which were usually very nice people who tipped well. But of course, driving home with beans in my hair, stinking of grease (ah, memories!) I would usually only remember the jerk who stroked my leg while ordering his burrito, or the woman who slapped my hand when I tried to clear her dirty plate with the napkin crumpled up on top of it. (True stories, both, by the way.) I guess the point is the same I’ve made here a million times—most likely using this same example, in which case, sorry about that—which is that you can’t please everyone, so you shouldn’t even try. But I’m not trying: I’m just aware that it’s not happening. What I really need to do is just not pay attention to the bad stuff, because I can’t do anything about it, and yet…I can’t help myself. I guess it’s like Coco with that yard stink. It just comes naturally, or something.
Okay, so now I’m comparing my professional angst to my dog rolling in muck. Time for a breather, I think. Maybe I should take the rest of the week off. So if I don’t show up in this space tomorrow, I’m at the beach, fruity drink in hand. Or, more likely, curled up in bed, still sleeping, or, barring that, reading EW and eating cookies. That sounds just as good, to be honest. If not better.