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.
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.
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.
A small duck has decided that the pond out back is perfect for morning swimming. A week ago, the four-footed one insisted on visiting the pond, and since then, she keeps making short visits back there.
If we go early enough, just after the sun has risen, but the light is still soft in the sky, we can watch the little duck paddle around the water. If the duck knows we are there, it doesn’t seem to care. It swims, dives, comes up, and carries on.
Today we watched it the duck swim and dive before waddling up onto the grass along the edge. The duck stayed in the grass for a while, and the four-footed settled in to enjoy herself, being outside and watching the duck.
Surprisingly for me, the four-footed one is content to walk here and sit silently, just watching the duck. She usually charges at other animals, greeting them with a boisterous bark or two while wagging her whole body. For some reason, her behavior with the duck is different.
I swear the four-footed one has a type of radar when it comes to me sneaking food while she is sleeping. No, that isn’t a mistake. She will be sound asleep, snoring even when I tiptoe into the kitchen. I will carefully grab a banana and open it. I will turn around to head back into the other room only to trip over an eager four-foot.
Bananas do not make that much noise. The kitchen is nowhere near where she is sleeping, and still, she hears it.
Beloved discovered this for himself today when he grabbed a cookie off the plate they were cooling on. No noise and still she was there looking up expectantly.
If it weren’t for his loud exclamation as he stumbled over her, I wouldn’t have known when he took the cookie. I would have discovered the missing cookie when I went to put them away, but I wouldn’t have known when it happened.
Someone told me that her sense of smell is also to blame for her incredible skills. I can understand this with respect to the banana; however, it does not explain the cookie. The cookie scent was already out in the open. They were cooling on a plate. There would be no new smell when Beloved picked the cookie up off the plate. It wasn’t as if he left the kitchen with the cookie.
I guess it’s just another mystery when it comes to the four-footed one.
Patti, our neighbor, brought over a fantastic looking cake this morning. She also brought along her pour-over-coffee device.
She giggled as we sat in the back with the four-footed one. Beloved had gone to the city an hour before Patti arrived. She asked me to boil some water while she set things up outside. She placed the cake at the center of the table. Next came two delicate coffee cups and her pour-over stand. She pulled out some pre-ground coffee (I would bet you a million dollars she had freshly ground the coffee before coming over), a block of palm sugar, and lastly, her particular container that keeps her cream cold.
I brought out the boiling water, some plates, and a bone for the four-footed one.
Patti had put the grounds in the device, and she poured the boiling water over them. Below the grounds, at the bottom of the stand, sat the two coffee cups. The water would slowly make its way through the grounds, dripping into delicious liquid in our cups.
Patti shaved some of the palm sugar off the block and into her cup, I politely declined, however, I accepted her cream.
Coffee, cake, good weather, and good friends were just the thing in the morning. Every morning should have these!
Some nights, long after Beloved and the four-footed one are fast asleep, I grab a light blanket and head to the balcony to sit in the inky darkness that seems to embrace me. It is like being welcomed by an old friend.
As dark as the night sky here gets, it is still never without light. The sky is a study of deep purples, swirling bluish greys, and flashings of shimmering light. I can get lost in watching the ever-changing sky, which is good because when I’ve come to the balcony, it is because I’m unable to sleep due to pain.
When nothing else can offer me peace, nature quietly steps in and continues to be as always. Each time I find myself here on this balcony, I try to tell myself to enjoy all that nature offers each day, not just when I am struggling with pain.
I’ve been here many times, not just on this balcony, but at a place where I remind myself to stop and enjoy what is on offer when presented to me. I earnestly mean to do this, and somehow everyday things, the mundane stuff, gets in the way. Perhaps if I change it so that I make a point of seeing one thing nature offers me each day, I will get closer to my goal.