My friend sent advice to cover our dog's crate so she couldn't see out at night, and that worked. But yesterday she had a rash on her belly, so today she has to go in to the vet to see what's up. Dogs are mysteries, that's for sure. I thought maybe a little hydrocortizone cream would help, but no, it can't be that simple and especially can't be that inexpensive. I should have done the dog insurance.
Yesterday we washed windows and counters and cabinets. I have an inordinate amount of satisfaction every time we're done with a particular task. I'd gotten bogged down in procrastination, to the the point it was working against me, I guess. In between, I read a McCarry political thriller, he's my new best read, and we walked the dogs and got rained on, and I talked to three of my kids on the phone.
I've lost that drive to see the new play or movie or exhibit. I'm very relaxed about it all now. Somewhere in my brain I feel full - like I could mull over the marvelous things I've already seen, really take them in, and be perfectly happy. I know that's not quite true, but the littler things give me more consistent pleasure nowadays. Seeing a friend, walking the neighborhood looking at flowering trees, figuring out what to cook for dinner and relaxing into the comfort of concocting a meal. I've pared down my life a bit, and it's fine.
Same with travel. I don't have the urge as much, and a small trip nearby will do. I can live with what I haven't seen. It feels like the torch has passed, and now I'm content to hear about the kids' travels, or look at old photos of my own. This may be particular to me, but it feels like a stage of life.
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