Today was as close to a day of total freedom as a responsible adult can get.
I had my alarm set for 9. What was I thinking? At 9 I reset it to 10. And at 10 I hit snooze three times. And each time the music woke me, I justified remaining in bed with "I don't have anywhere to be". That's awful close to "I have no reason to get out of bed". Sometimes semantics is the only thing separating carefree relaxation from major depressive disorder.
Well...semantics and one little pill a day.
When I finally dragged my butt out of bed and put clothes on my fat ass (don't ask about my diet of late, mnkay? It's Christmas.), I risked life and limb to drive across the frozen Ohio tundra to take the dog to get his hair cut. That's the responsible adult portion of our program. Boo needed a haircut. And a bath. Bad.
While Boobear got his beauty treatment I slipped and slid over to The Farm, the location of the dog rescue where I volunteer. I walked dogs and threw tennis balls and petted and played with these sweet, trusting souls who deserve so much better than they have so far received out of life. I consider myself lucky to be able to do this for an hour or two more weekends than not. The sense of purpose this work brings is sometimes all that keeps me going from 5pm Friday 'till 8:30am Monday.
As I was about to leave The Farm, not because I had anywhere to go but just because I was done, I got a call from Boss Lady, the rescue's founder, asking if I could stick around and introduce one of the dogs to a lady she was sending over. Sure! No problem! Anything to feel useful for a few more minutes.
As I waited in my car for the lady to make her way to The Farm, I watched the snow fall. If Norman Rockwell had been asked to do a painting called "Farm in Winter" this would have been it. A tidy farmhouse with a wrap-around porch, a big red barn where horses live. Cute little red...I don't know...chicken coops? What am I, a farmer? Spit rail fencing. Big old trees. The family's dogs came out to visit me for a bit. Boss Lady's dad, with his long, white beard, made an appearance wearing a Santa hat. I shit you not. Even in my head I couldn't paint such a perfect picture.
The lady came, she and her prospective adoptive dog hit it off very nicely. I reported back to Boss Lady and left The Farm just in time to pick Boo up at the groomers. He is so adorable now, fluffy and clean with no more hair hanging in his eyes.
When I got home The Boy and his girlfriend were here. I can easily go a week without seeing The Boy, even though we live in the same house, so this was a nice surprise. I miss his face. But soon enough he informed me "Mom, you smell like dog". He's a real poet that one. So I wandered off to shower and they left.
I was supposed to have a date tonight. He flaked on me. Why do guys do that? "I'll call you tomorrow and we'll firm things up". Yeah...sure you will. Why ask me out in the first place if you're not going to follow through? Is it just an ego thing? Are you just trying to see if you CAN get the date even though you don't actually want to go on it?
Boys are stupid, regardless of age.
I'm pretty good at lying to myself but given that I turned my car sideways on my way home from my travels this afternoon I don't think I'm bullshitting myself when I say I was better off at home tonight, snuggling with a pint of cappuccino gelato. The date was going to be 20 miles away and the snow has continued to fall.
I just let the dogs out for their last potty and yard patrol of the night. It's one of those windless winter nights that make me think, just for a split second, that I've gone deaf when I stick my head out to call them in. It's so still it almost feels like outside is actually a vast indoor room, like I could talk to my neighbors without raising my voice. And without the wind I could stand on the deck in my socks and pajamas and watch my dogs romp through the first real snow of the year.
So today I did only what I wanted to do. I played with dogs and I got to see The Boy and I got to live in a winter wonderland. It was a beautiful day.
And now, even though I've only been up for 12 1/2 hours, I could go to bed if I wanted. Instead, I will go read in bed, not having to worry about keeping anyone awake. Living the dream, right?
I think I'm going to need a bigger pill.