The Night Thief

There is a thief in this house. This thief only strikes under the cover of darkness provided during the night. With cunning craftiness, this thief takes only the item that interests them, the blankets from my bed.

I’m pretty sure the thief possesses four feet because I can’t understand how a third party would sneak into the house late at night, take the blankets and build a nest in which they then place my four-footed companion.

Naturally, upon waking up cooler than I’d like, I’ve questioned the innocent-looking companion of mine. She tilts her head from side to side during questioning. She raises her eyebrows as if to say, “I have no idea how this nest of blankets came to be.” She sniffs the whole house, checking for the scent of the thief, but alas, she cannot pick up anything.

She sits in front of the crack in the door as if to say the thief comes and goes through this. A ghost, I ask her, but she shakes as if to say that’s wrong.

Each night the thief comes, each night, the four-footed one somehow ends up with the blankets in a nest, and each day we search for proof of this crime. I don’t want to blame an innocent being, but I’m beginning to think my companion is the thief.

Lattes And Lost

Who knew you could lose yourself in a good latte? Certainly not myself, at least not until I managed to do it. It started rather merely by taking the first sip of the latte, savoring the creaminess, and looking out the window.

I wasn’t looking at anything specific, just marveling at the pleasure of sitting down and enjoying a delicious drink. I noticed not just how creamy it was but how it blended and mellowed the robust taste of the coffee, which seemed to come underneath the milk.

I let it roll over my tongue, coating it with a velvety touch before it made it’s way down my throat with soothing warmth. As I sipped the drink, I decided it felt like a hug from within. A much-needed hug, I admitted to myself with the next sip.

And so it went, each sip resulted in another acknowledgment of how I was enjoying the drink. Friends, I reached the bottom of that latte sooner than I had anticipated and boldly decided to have another latte later in the day.

How Does She Do It

The four-footed one enjoys her routine. These mornings that means after she takes care of the call of nature, a short walk must be had so she can check on the duck. After our little adventure, we settle down for a bit of time for some peaceful time before the rest of the day unfolds.

How that spreads out may vary in small degrees from day to day, as long as lunch, another ramble, some rest, play, evening meal, and a final ramble before she settles down for the night, all is good in her world.

These days I am envious of how she spends her time living in the moment as it happens with only the faintest concern about the next part of the routine. There is something to be said about not fretting over uncertain future events. It’s quite the trick she has managed to perform. So far, she hasn’t offered to share how she pulls this off, and I have a niggling feeling she never will!

Digging It

The four-footed one was digging in the garden as if she had found the X on a treasure map. Neither butterflies nor birds could stop her from the task at hand. She dug with the pace of passion and determination.

Panting with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, she came and flopped down at my feet. If she found the treasure, it must have been tiny because I never saw anything. Then again, she may have eaten it. Or, the treasure had been moved without the map being updated.

Whereas I would have been upset or at least disappointed not to have the treasure, she seemed happy. Maybe digging the hole was the whole purpose, the path to her happiness.

Hopefully, I will have some of her happiness when I go to fill the hole back in because I assure you, it isn’t staying as a hole. Not a hole as deep as the one she dug in a short amount of time.

A Good Idea Gone Sideways

I bought a lap desk for my laptop. At the time, it seemed like a perfectly good idea. I could sit wherever I wanted, enjoying the outdoors, or any spot in the house. When I picked it up, I envisioned my life being so much more “portable.”

So what happened? I discovered that I set cross-legged more than I thought. Sure, the desk is long enough to cover across my legs. The desk also tilts downwards, or in towards me, which isn’t cool. Yes, it does have a bar to stop the laptop from sliding all over the place.

Lap desks, it seems, are made for people who sit with their feet flat on the floor. (Who are these people?) Lap desks also aren’t made for people who have dogs that like to jump on their legs. It’s not the right combination. Trust me, friends; you can’t have both on your legs at the same time and expect to be productive.

Maybe the issue isn’t the lap desk; maybe it’s me. My odd sitting habits and posture may not be made for this lap desk.

Give Me Space

The four-footed one is annoyed with me being under her feet all the time. Well, technically, I’m not actually under her feet because she’s always under my feet.

Who knew that a small dog required a whole house to herself most of the day? I certainly had no idea that little Miss Four-Feet was someone who needed as much space as she appears to need.

I thought by leaving her one room in the house while I worked in another would be enough. I was wrong. Horribly wrong. And she made sure those near the hoes heard how wrong I was.

Seeking peace and preserving my hearing, I headed outside to work. She could have the house, and I would work surrounded by flowers and such. Little Miss Four-Feet was having none of this either. A dog, the size of a shoe box, requires a lot of space—more space than a human the size of many shoe boxes, for the record.

Who Said This Was Easy

Beloved isn’t the handiest of men. If you need someone to discuss philosophy with, he’s your man. You want to do some deconstruction theory; he’s there for you. Need a shelf put up? That may not be his forte. He can tell you how to do it, but the actual doing of it is a whole other story.

I’ve known this for years, and over time I find reminders of his handyman skills, or rather lack thereof. Needless to say, when he announced, with the confidence no less, that he was going to wallpaper a room, you could have knocked me over with a feather.

Part of me thought, well, anything is doable with time and such. YouTube could no doubt be a perfect teacher for him. How much trouble could he honestly get into with this anyway? It turns out he can get into more trouble than anticipated friends. He got into a lot of trouble.

Wallpaper glue ended up on the floor and his shoe. This glue is slippery. It leads to him slipping on the floor, knocking over the glue container, and making a massive mess.

Yes, I know that they have pre-glued sheets of paper. No friends that is not the type of paper he bought. And no, I don’t know why. For the record, the room is still unpapered.