I feel every single day of my thirty years on this “third rock from the sun” when I wake up this morning and try to get out of bed. It can’t be normal, I think, as literally every muscle in my body protests with a simple movement such as sliding off the bed.
A body isn’t supposed to feel worn-out before actually reaching thirty, is it? Of course not, they’re just years for crying out loud, and a wee bit of exercise for a four months, should make such things less painful, rather than the other way around. It’s downright weird that’s what it is. Whatever is causing this particular effect deserves a special kind of torture for sure. Hah.
If I didn’t know any better I’d think I’d just started my workouts yesterday. It’s just ridiculous, and I tell the body so while I shuffle through my cabin, going through the morning rituals at half the usual speed. Bulls**t! I say over and over again, unwilling to believe that these aches are warranted, and after a little while the whining joints finally start functioning enough for me to head on to the house at a moderate pace.
The workout is looming ahead while I make my way down, whistling for the dogs to get their butts into the courtyard and grabbing the Monster Boxer before she can dash into the house, ahead of me.
Grandpa is right behind me, and since Trin Trin’s crazy antics towards him are more than a little scary, I look for her leash the moment I step down into the seating area. It takes me a good five minutes to locate it, hidden underneath a folded blanket on a chair, and snap it on her collar the moment grandpa enters. Right on time!
Used to the procedure the Boxer climbs up onto the chair and sits there, looking bored the way she usually does. It’s amazing how she can have that silly impassionate expression on her flat face, but give her an inch (in this case no leash) and she’ll pounce on either grandpa or the first dog–if it isn’t a member of her own pack–that walks past. Her name isn’t monster for nothing, I tell you. She is exactly that on a multitude of occasions.
It’s not meanness that makes her jump on top of a dog, or a person, really. I know that full well whenever I watch her watch another living being with dangerous intent in her eyes. I also know that when she tries to bite me–or someone else–that it isn’t malice that makes her do it. She just doesn’t understand that what she does causes damage to man and animal alike. It’s all fun and games for her, and it doesn’t help at all that she doesn’t experience pain the way other dogs do.
Once Trin Trin gets riled, she’ll fight to the death if someone doesn’t jump in and literally yanks her out of a fray–in most cases bleeding all over since the other dogs do not accept her fighting antics at all. On the rare occasions that she manages to start a fight, she’ll be digging into some unsuspecting dog while two to four dogs are attacking her from behind. She’ll barely notice while she’s in the thick of things, which scares me at times. Normal sensibilities seem to fly right out of the window the moment she’s got her mind set on something.
In all honesty I should have put her down the moment these dangerous tendencies of hers started to show, but when she’s not fighting she is the sweetest dog imaginable. Affectionate, loving, gentle: all those things that make her an amazingly sweet dog. But her bad breeding is definitely showing in her aggression.
So, I made a deal with her several years ago. “One real bite towards humans and I’ll have you put to sleep permanently.” Strangely enough she seems to understand the deal fully, and though she still tries at times, my lower arms are no longer filled with big swollen bruise, the way they were before the deal.
There have been some close calls for sure in the past, but none that have broken the deal we made so far. She takes close supervision, lots of time latched to a leash in the hours that she needs to share the house with the rest of the pack, but on the overall her behavior is manageable. She doesn’t actually mind the leash, either. As a matter of fact being leashed appears to calm her somewhat, which is a lucky thing since it is a permanent precaution that she needs.
I do hope that she won’t break the deal, though, for I’d hate to have to carry out the particularly nasty thread.
But enough about things I cannot change, no matter how much I’d want to. Back to the day:
Rather than give myself time to talk myself out of today’s workout, I change into my exercise clothes immediately, starting with the warm-ups before the first thought actually manages to surface. The aches and pains jump to the fore immediately, and my face is a tight mask of frustration as I need to literally force my limbs to go through every motion. I actually get pretty angry about the twinges, since they aren’t supposed to be there now that I’ve fully adjusted to the routines, and apply more force than I usually do.
Using that frustration and grinding my teeth, I move over to the punching bag for the “fun” part of the session. The kicks are painful, as are the punches, but in the end I get through today’s workout and hurry towards the shower in hopes that the steaming hot water will ease some of the tension that makes moving practically impossible.
It does, much to my relief, feeling decidedly better–if overly tired–by the time I return to the living and find that there is no laundry to hang today. That improves my mood considerably, while I have a quick breakfast and then settle at my computer with heavy eyelids.
Since the messages will only distract me for at least a couple of hours, I decide to skip them entirely and get down to business with the Vampire story once more.
I add two more pages to last night foray, and then fit the loose scene into the story with another three until there are only four more pages to add before this story is done.
While working, big brother and I discuss an idea I had last night for a sequel–this time novel length–and agree that it’s a good basis for the next vampire story. It will add to the first, we’re sure, and writing it should be a genuine pleasure since it will be about the sister of the first character, and therefore allows for an expansion of the characters that drew us into this series in the first place.
Sundown has already occurred by the time I decide to call a halt to today’s writing session and warm up the last piece of pizza that’s left of yesterday’s dinner. What with the distraction of writing, I’ve failed to notice the others already eating their fair share, and am the last one to start with dinner. Apparently it was good, ‘cause I’d figured we could eat it for at least three days, only to find that with this last piece for me all is gone.
Unexpectedly, a panic attack hits then–for no good reason I can think of, really–making my stomach revolt, and allowing me to keep it in just barely as I quickly decide to distract myself by heading for the kitchen to see what I can do today.
With big brother gruffly telling me to breathe, I desperately look around for something to focus on, and, per his instructions, finally settle on measuring out the cover plates of the drawers that still need to be cut.
It’s an affliction I’ve been suffering from for three years now. Those panic attacks that’ll sneak up on me when I least expect it. Though I have tried herbal remedies and even Valium to curb the breathtaking episodes, the past year has taught me that getting down to all-consuming physical work really works best.
Within ten minutes the tight feeling in my chest subsides, allowing me to breathe calmly as I continue to cut out eight of nine drawer covers, until the wood supply runs out.
Something goes wrong halfway through the cutting, however. The circle saw shorts out the power for a moment, and though we try to figure out what is wrong, we can’t get the plugs in one section of the old kitchen to work again, casting half of the project into gloomy shadows.
Across from me, on the other side of the counter–now badly lit–the sisters are sanding and priming the covers, so that we can paint them with the first layer of red paint tomorrow. On the side big brother is working on a fold out waste-bin that we want to build into the counter, and is getting along well enough to suit us all.
It is not really satisfying work, if for no other reason than the fact that the end result won’t be visible until we actually start to attach the covers on the drawers in the next few days, but still, it needs to be done.
Little brother stays upstairs again today with the promise of a grand surprise in the near future, and since little Djoti needs to be kept under observation anyway it doesn’t matter. Besides, four pairs of hands are adequate numbers now that the heaviest work on the counters has been done, and it is all about finishing the cosmetics of the whole.
Nearing midnight we finish cleaning up, and after checking the counters for splatters we disperse to our chosen locations throughout the house.
While the sisters disappear to the second floor, big brother and I settle in front of the TV in order to watch some Law & Order reruns, until it’s time for me to go to my room.
Feeling considerably tired, now that today’s activities are over, I’m not at all pleased to come to my cabin to find that some pesky dog has managed to sneak inside again and spread out the remainder of cushion fillings all over the floors. It is everywhere, and I swear aplenty as I set myself to cleaning incredible the mess up.
Four garbage bags get filled in the end, and the cushions my dogs prefer to sleep on are unsalvageable. I don’t know which dog does this nasty business, but I’ll be sure to give him/her a piece of my mind when…if ever…I find out the identity. This is the third time now that this has happened, and though on any other day I might laugh at the ingeniousness of the pesky dog responsible, I fail to find it amusing when all I really want to do is crawl into bed and go to sleep.
Since I have to throw the ruined cushions out, this particular problem shouldn’t be occurring again in the near future, though, so that’s one positive thing that came out of it, I guess.
My dogs don’t make sweeping the floors an easy task, however, and keep spreading the pile I’ve just swept together all through the cabin, because they are impatient for their meal to start.
At last, after forty minutes the floor is clean at last, allowing me to feed the dogs and head for bed and some relaxation on the Net until it’s time to turn in for the night.
I do wonder what tomorrow will bring…no workout, thankfully. Hah.
No comments:
Post a Comment