Each day equals 3 to me

I know I shouldn’t complain about the long hours that summer has brought, for I tend to enjoy looking at the clock that says 5 p.m. and thinking it was still early, whereas 5 p.m. winter time felt like it was time to get ready for the night ritual.

But I don’t know what else to say. More hours means more time to entertain Charley. The reason I say to entertain is I was aware this was a very active breed, and I thank the few people that have met us and asked what breed she is, and have been told her mix of Aussie/Collie = 2 demanding breed of dogs, and say she’s obviously happy, and I am doing a great job.

I do appreciate those words. That is why I am saying every 1 day is almost 3. For weeks in a row, I have come home with Charley, get ready for bed, listen to our Dr. SaxLove, or some ambient music at 10 and have woken in the morning sighing, start getting ready for Monday morning, feeling satisfied I I had a very complete and busy weekend only to find out it was Saturday. The first weekend was fun, for it felt like a free vacation. Second week was like, ok, I’ve got 2 more days until I can go to work, and the 3rd week I got to the point where I have no clue or memory about what has happened on the weekend. This is the 4th weekend. Or the 5th. I seriously don’t know. Ever since June someday and time. I can barely stand looking at her sitting by the front door, with her 8th wind coming back. I’m exhausted, I’ve got blisters on my feet that she has no sympathy for, I know it’s hot inside, and I would love to go outside and read a book or just sit there and gaze at the trees and flowers but that just isn’t the case. I brought her home today mid afternoon because it is raging hot, she kept wanting me to throw the ball or the frisbee, and the only way to get any rest is to go home. It really sucks. She won’t sit still for more than 5 minutes. If I or someone else doesn’t engage, she’ll try to find some way that makes somebody engage with her. When we go to leave she acts like a little kid that doesn’t want to go home; stalling, smelling everything, zig-zag in front of me, drift towards a person walking the opposite way on the sidewalk and try to sniff at their legs. As a matter of fact, I think the reason I am so annoyed is my headphones got broken from her zig-zag. We were going down a dirt hill, running I suppose, when her zag tripped me, causing me to flail uncontrollably, my headphones flying in the air, and breaking the attachment to the earpiece. What would have been worse is that my phone had also flown out of my hand, and I didn’t realize it until we were halfway home. I had to run back to the scene of the fall, and luckily my phone was lying in a bush off the path. It is my fault that we went down the back way to the field, so I accept that.

That is all I am going to write about. I try to always say a little bleep in my journal just so I remember what I wanted to write about and so that is what I am doing.

My friend Nick took her for one night. I laid comatose in my bed staring at the ceiling, and totally enjoyed every minute. She was a mess when I came to pick her up. Kinda made me think she might like me.

That lasted 1/2 day.

I’m off for she is right now up my ass because I promised I’d take her out one more time tonight. I was hoping she’d forget. I could only wish. Or hope. Both?

Stupid scary smart dog.

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