You Can't Sit There

Most people get new furniture and make up all kinds of new rules. The pets in the house, maybe even the kids, wind up circulating the Northern Hemisphere if that's what they have to do to get from their bed to the kitchen without getting the hairy eyeball.

It's not the same with us. We didn't really make the decision, it seems simply preordained. We have a brand new couch and a very old golden retriever, and he is absolutely exhausted. You can't kick this guy off the couch. Look at him. He's so tired.

He needs to be on the couch.

And he needs a good long day of rest, particularly if he's had a good night's sleep. He gets really good rest on that couch. Just think for a second how satisfied you feel when you wake up from a nap and find drool on your pillow.

Sometimes I think even our other pets marvel at his state of exuberant rest. I don't think that exact phrase leaps unbidden to their minds but the other dogs come bounding back into the living room from a short bathroom break like they haven't seen us in 20 years. Suddenly they see him on the couch, snoring away, and they stop in their tracks and turn to stare for a second. We also have a cat that periodically walks up to him, takes in a profound sniff, and then adoringly taps him with her paw.

Sleeping is probably one of the most underrated, unappreciated activities that exists and he's a powerful reminder, don't you think?

I definitely prefer him to the couch.

The High Road is Boring and Dangerous

I was told several times today that I needed to let go of a certain little incident that occurred. It’s bugging me like crazy and I’m actually a little tired of it myself. One or two people said to me, “Jen, it’s such a little thing…”

They’re right, it is such a little thing but guess what? So is a splinter. You can’t always figure out exactly where it is but you know it’s there, it hurts like hell, and it has to be picked.

My significant other is adamant that I keep my mouth shut about this little thing because he sees picking this particular splinter as ending up picking a fight. He’s also tried pointing me in the direction of the High Road more than several times.

This is problematic for me. For one, I’m a person who likes a lot of attention and it seems like when you take the High Road no one notices. (Which is partly the point, I guess.) For another, I have a temper, and the speed limits on the High Road just don’t seem to allow for it. It’s not very exciting on the High Road and the other people I know who seem to take it the most believe in self-help books and can conclude almost any conversation with a slogan.

The boundaries between Taking the High Road and Becoming a Dumb Old Doormat are also a struggle for me. When do I stand up for myself and when do I simply decide that the other person somehow managed to complete a life course on How To Be A Jerk? How will I feel about myself later if I keep my mouth shut? How will I feel about myself later if they still don’t understand that they are a jerk? Isn’t there a point where I’m obligated to inform someone of their profound jerkdom?

The High Road can also be insidious and have unintended consequences. What’s worse? Keeping an important fact from someone that pissed you off which might help them in their lives and then going straight home, obsessing about it, and eating an entire tub of curry mango chutney cream cheese dip on crackers and knocking back a couple glasses of wine OR letting someone know how you really feel, even if you do it passive aggressively?

Actually, I’m going to eat the dip and drink the wine either way.

Apparently, I Have All The Time Everyone Else Is Looking For

Over the last six months or so I’ve gotten more interested in blogging – mostly inspired by my friend Sarah. Once I started reading Sarah's blog, I started sneaking around by checking out her favorite blogs. I felt a little like a stalker or maybe like Jennifer Jason Leigh in Single White Female so I was actually comforted by the fact that I would never be able to pull off her awesome haircut.

I started branching out and searching for blogs that focused on things I thought might be interesting. I have particularly sophisticated and somewhat unique interests: how to lose weight fast without dieting or exercise, how to make a lot of money without working, and how to knock back a bottle of wine in one night without suffering from a hangover the next day.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Come on, get on board with the rest of us and start getting interested in something like ancient Yugoslavian pottery and following the collections of obscure ethnic games.” Sorry, not for me. You don’t get a link either.

Looking for blogs and then blogging became its own interest, and like anyone with any new interest, I started talking about it. I talk about blogs: what I learn on blogs, interesting blogs, the photography on blogs, and I talked about maybe writing a blog.

Here's what everyone says that drives me nuts: “Where do you find the time for that?” Two or three people said something like, “Oh I don’t think I would want to spend my time doing that.” A few others said, “Oh, I just don’t have the time.”

Most people would interpret the above as the following: “Where do you find the time for that?” or “Oh, I don’t think I would want to spend my time doing that,” or “Oh, I just don’t have the time.”

I haven’t mentioned yet that I am a master at translating the English language. This is what they are really saying: “OH. MY. GOD. I cannot believe you waste time doing something stupid like that on a computer. My time is spent in far more valuable ways doing very important things. I am superior to you in every way.”

I’ve thought about this. I don’t think that’s the case. It’s obviously not the case that I AM the superior being with 26 hours in my day instead of the random 24. (Although I am, clearly, for myriad reasons, the superior being.) What might be the case is that I freely admit that which I prefer more than doing the laundry, more than searching out dust kitties (dust dinosaurs in my house), more than staring blindly at the TV while talking on the phone or watching rerun number 47 of the 4th series of Star Trek. I freely admit that sometimes I go home and do work and sometimes…I don’t.

I also freely admit that I sometimes have a lot of spare time in the evening because if my significant other isn’t home, I can’t figure out how to turn on the TV and the cable.

Okay, it’s out. If I could work the remotes, I might not blog. That's not to say I'm going back. I'm bloggin'. My house is a mess, my clothes are dirty, the remotes are strewn across the back yard, and I've got a ton of work. But apparently, I've also got plenty of time.

Yeah, there's a calculator in there too.