When You’re The Hook, Even Waking Up Is Complicated.

Events of the last few months have left me reflective and somber. Hence, the journey we’re about to embark upon…

On the surface my home life is a still pond, immutable and relatively calm, some might even say boring.

But if you take a closer look you’ll soon see the maelstrom raging below. For example, today began as it always does: the mini-TV/alarm clock on my side of the bed  shattered my slumber and a dream faded quickly, forcing me to slowly (very slowly) rise and carry the dog – who is usually splayed across my legs – downstairs to do her business on the back deck.

Must be nice to be carried to the bathroom, right? Did anyone do that for me when I broke my leg last summer? Hells, no! I had to crawl to the bathroom like a Morlock or worse, a Kardashian off my mood stabilizers. It was sad, I tell you.

Sorry about that. I’m back.

And so I waited while the dog does her business, I carried her furry butt back upstairs and very quietly, I placed her back on the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping princess curled up in a ball on one side. Any husband will attest to this, ladies; waking a slumbering spouse is akin to willingly  putting your testicles in a guillotine.

It just isn’t done.

Fortunately for me, I pulled it off (as a guy, I’m more than used to pulling it off, but in a vastly different way), and I was able to head downstairs to boot up my laptop and write another NaBloPoMo  post.

Which I just did.

Thank Dog for the relative freedom of the NaBloPoMo system. Otherwise, I may have to actually be creative – and as anyone who has read my “work” can attest… that’s not my strong suit.

I love it when a plans comes together, don’t you?

See you in the lobby, kids…