I wrote a story for the first time in a long time today. No, not a story. The beginnings of a musical. That was cathartic. I haven’t felt that good in a very long time. I also wrote some comedy, but it wasn’t funny. Sort of defeats the purpose, I guess. I tried to make it funny, but then I just ended up rambling about nothing – story of my life – and instead just saved the document as it was and went to get a coffee. Like any dumb Millennial, I buy my coffee at $6/cup instead of making it at home.
I’ll tell you a little story about something that happened today. I hate purses, so I carry everything in my hands, pockets, or sometimes a backpack. I don’t have anything to carry my stuff in today, so when I walk my dog, I have my keys, wallet, phone, headphones, leash, water bottle, sandwich – you don’t bring a sandwich with you on a walk? Weird – in my hands. My dog, Emma, decides that she doesn’t want to walk like a normal dog, she wants to sprint ahead, and then stop suddenly and pull both of us backward into a plant to smell pee (her) and trip over the sidewalk (me). But I jump ahead…
So. I have my hands full, literally. We’ve made it out the door and down the steps without a problem. I immediately start thinking how impressive I am for having successfully navigated that. We get a little way down the street without a problem before Emma yanks me backward. I trip trying to catch up with her and run smack into another dog owner, who thinks I’m just being friendly and proceeds to let his dog sniff mine as she tries to pee while telling me that he just “found this dog on Thursday” and he “seems friendly.” This “friendly” dog keeps knocking Emma over with his nose. After the third time, I make up an excuse to leave, but he and his dog just follow me. So now I speed walk away without trying to make it obvious, which I’m sure I do. But Emma takes this moment to stop suddenly and pull me backward again into the bushes. I trip a second time. She looks up at me, MAKING EYE CONTACT, as she squats and starts to poop. You’ll remember that I have my hands full. I wait for her to finish. As soon as she does, she pulls at the leash back toward that guy’s dog while I simultaneously try to get a poop bag out of the container attached to her leash. When she yanks at the leash and because my hands are busy trying to get a bag, I bumble a bunch of my stuff and drop EVERYTHING smack dab into the fresh poop. Phone. Headphones. Keys. Worst of all, sandwich. It’s all poop. Everything is poop.
The guy with the friendly dog helped me separate my stuff from Emma’s stuff and clean it off. I may have been wrong about him…
I grieved the sandwich. Does that count? Baby steps?
A Year to Grieve 