I’m sitting at the computer monitor this morning wishing I could remember my drifting-off-to-sleep-thoughts last night where I brainstormed a great blog post. I can’t even remember which blog it was supposed to be for, but I do recall being quite pleased with my mental draft and then rolling over to sleep soundly.
I can’t help that my brain was more active than my body and the resulting decision NOT to go downstairs and type this life-altering thought has now cost the world some seriously good advice. Or laughs. Or whatever I had planned.
And while I’m sitting here wishing I could remember my own thoughts, Mabel is barking at the door. 6:15 in the morning is not the time for her to be barking, so I hoist myself up from the desk and walk through the kitchen and into the garden room to let her in.
I open the door and she looks up at me. Within half a second, she has turned on all four paws, and is sprinting across the yard to attack Mason, who insists on walking the full perimeter of our yard before coming inside.
I close the door and walk away. Back through the garden room, through the kitchen and into the office. I plop down in the chair.
Woof! Woof! Woof-woof-woof!!!!!
I want to call her names. I want to smack her cute little nose and explain to her that asking for something repeatedly and then putting the giver on hold is rude and socially unacceptable.
She does not care.
So today, with last night’s wit and wisdom merely a faint memory, I offer not really a change, but a wish that Mabel would change. Or at least that she would have the decency to come inside when I open the door at her request.