Part 2

It never ceases to amaze me that just when I submerge myself into my almond oil bath, my boxer begins to whine incessantly. Her timing is impeccable. 

I calmly tell her to go lay down. But after awhile my comforting voice turns into that of an Army General, one who is trying to find some peace and tranquility while soaking in the tub. As it turns out, my boxer is bothered by the wind howling outside. Normally I am sympathetic to her worries. But I had worries I was hoping to drown. And I felt mine took precedence over hers.

The timing of things always strikes me as odd. I don’t know how it is that my children feel inclined to ask for my assistance just when my hot cocoa has reached the perfect temperature and I’m about to slip away to slurp it in privacy. Dutifully though, I stand and listen. I print whatever needs to be printed. I find the scissors. I locate the missing sock. I check whatever needs to be checked and attempt to solve the world’s problems all while my hot cocoa turns cold. And its never quite the same when I have to reheat it.

I never take naps, but when I do (such as during this past week while under the weather), that is exactly when the telemarketer will call. My heart does not respond well to those abrupt phone calls, which makes it near impossible to nod back off once my heart rate has slowed down. 

I’m not the type of person that does well when I hear the phone ringing while I’m in the shower either. Nine times out of ten, it is a telemarketer. But my mind thinks only of the slim chance that it is something important. And although I know it can surely wait the ten minutes needed for me to finish. It is impossible for me to stand lethargically under the hot water as I normally do. And there have been moments during red-alert times over the last few years when I jumped out of the shower and dripped all the way to the phone just to discover it was a robo-machine that had called. The words I grumbled, I shall not repeat here.

For reasons I never could figure out during his lifetime, my english setter would randomly bark when I was in the shower. Not a playful bark, mind you. No. He did the ‘someone’s here’ bark.  So while soapy and standing under the water, I would mutter and wonder who on earth had arrived. He was right only a fraction of the time, but apparently that was all that was needed to put me in rush mode every time he warned me, whether accurate or not.

Right now all is quiet. My boxer isn’t pleased with the rain outside but at least she no longer feels she will die a miserable death. My bath wasn’t as relaxing as I had hoped, but at the very least I’m well moisturized. My illustrator sent over her sketches for my children’s book. In doing so, she brought a smile to my face. Such talent. So now I will return to my work, then later maybe read while listening to the rain. And if the phone rings, that’s okay. The damn thing is sitting right next to me.

Sane