Just Another Morning

6:30 AM

I'm blogging from my back porch. Not a cozy porch festooned with campy seasonal stuff. I'm blogging from a bleak porch prepped for Winter. I'm on my back. On the ground. It's 36°. Man, I'm in pain.

I slipped in shit. It was the loose, pooling kind. It wasn't from this morning. It was right outside the back door, a welcome mat that nobody wants. This Good Morning Pile ruined my day.

It's cold and dark out. My useless dogs circle me; I still clutch breakfast biscuits in my hand. Lemme just put down my phone, okay?

Here. Go! Go shit some more while you're at it.

Man, I'm in pain. Gonna go towards the stairs and banister.

 
1 HOUR LATER

I made coffee. Amazing, right? Now I'm upstairs.

I am grateful for my dogs. They kept me company outside once they overcame their shock of me being at their level. 

Hershey summed up the situation and batted my head, neck, and shoulder to ask for more kibble. Zoie barked her ass off in the dark yard. Piper demanded to be let in. And Angus?

Angus is a helicopter dog, 3/4 love and 1/4 Lovecraft horror. He gives Nyarlathotep a run for the money. He emits a scream so frightening that the very sound of it is enough to drive our closest neighbors insane.

Or piss them off.

Or pissed Hershey off. The excitement summons ear-shattering barks from the hound. He barks at nothing. He barks in my face. He bark's in Angus' ear which then gets Angus pissed off. I don't have the bandwidth for that when I'm on the ground and in pain.

It's a good thing Jeff doesn't bark. Bonus: he's housebroken.

ANOTHER HOUR AFTER THAT

Curb any additional plaudits for these dogs. Someone got onto my desk and took a bunch of paper towels off it. They shredded them all over the office floor.

 It's almost 8:30. I've slipped into depression. I'm tired of being in pain. I hate the way it dominates my life.

NOON

I don't have anything profound to add. I bit Jeff's head off for no good reason. Sorry about that, Bud. 💔

Heh.  I didn't know Blogger has emoji. The realization doesn't lift me out of my funk, but it makes me chuckle.

Regardless of all that, I'm depressed because my body betrayed me. Or else I betrayed it by the way I treated it all these years. I'll live.