When You Try To Enjoy Your Alone Time (Day 172)

(photo credit: Tuxedo Cat: Dog Fart by Martin Ringlein on flickr.com. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/legalcode.)

Sometimes what you need is a few hours alone in your house where all you do is snuggle up on the couch and read your book. And bitch at your dog for his never-ending farting.

Which makes it nearly impossible to focus on your book.

So you shoo the dog out of the room and return to reading.

But you feel guilty. The look on his face when you banished him. And he is the only one in the world who idolizes you, following you around and laying at your feet.

So you call to him across the house (nobody else is home so you can use that goofy dog-voice that you’ve convinced yourself he responds to better than your normal voice) and you wait.

Not long, though, because within seconds, he comes trotting in, tail wagging, and lies down on your feet. You pet him for a bit, sweet talk him, give him the love he deserves.

Eventually, you pick up your book again and find your way back into the story. It’s a great story about art and love and dangerous liaisons. Based on the real lives of Degas and Cassatt and Manet and Moriset. And Renoir and Monet and any other artist you can think of who worked in Paris in the mid to late 19th century.

Just when you’ve lost yourself completely, and feel as though you are part of the narrative instead of the reader, a heinous smell rises into your airspace and you have to pinch your nostrils shut, which pulls you back into your reality.

Sometime soon you’ll find your way back to the story, sometime after you’ve walked around the first floor of the house opening all the doors and windows.

Because the only thing that matters at that moment in time is cross-ventilation.


I write about daily life, arts & culture, food, books, nature, animals, parenting, relationships, self-discovery, & more.

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