Distractions Anyone?
Thank god for beer and friends. Nothing like a depressant or two or three to chase the blues away. Except that it doesn’t work. Friends can keep me focussed on other things, but eventually I’m alone again. I still hear footfalls behind me and I still reach for the gatekeeper’s bribes every time I leave the apartment. It could take weeks to round up the squeakies and the rope toys and all the half-eaten treats Pongo stashed away during that last week. I dunno if he was saving them for a party, or was just accepting them to make me stop offering them, but they seem to be all over the place. I suspect I’ll be finding rawhide remnants under and in the furniture until I move out.
But as I sit here miserable in the heat, at least my fans are spinning and moving the 90 degree air around (yay for wind chill!), unlike the poor souls in Queens and St. Louis. As of five minutes ago, my landlord has fixed my garbage disposal. Big Brother All Stars isn’t as pathetic as it could have been. And even though work production this week really sucked, the weekend is here. More opportunities for distraction. Chances to get out and about. Not thinking helps.
Anything I can do to help?
One thing I did last summer when I had to put my own dog down was try to change the routine. If you went home at a certain time to let Pongo out, do something else (something good) like going to a bookstore for coffee or meeting a friend for a drink. I found it somewhat helpful to cope by breaking the old habits early.
The old habits are getting shattered, especially that one of getting out of bed in the morning. I relied on my little alarm-clock enforcer more than I realized.