Since buying the house, I’ve started carrying around a black journal in which I semi-compulsively write all of the various chores, projects, purchases, etc. that need to be accomplished. “Stress Inducing Log of Expensive Projects” might be a better term for the journal. Regardless, I wrote the following passage in it this morning:
I woke up early this morning to do some work before going to work. However, I’ve spent the first ten minutes of my extra hour looking for the coffee filters, which Lindsey had moved while unpacking the hundreds of kitchen things we (apparently) own. I spent another ten minutes waiting for my toast to toast in the toaster oven that had been shifted and, unbeknownst to me, unplugged. Now, I’m sitting in sweat pants and a hooded “Michigan” sweatshirt with hiking boots on as a precaution for having to chase after Yogi if he decides to bolt into the woods.
I wrote the last sentence about hiking boots before I put them on, and just before Yogi actually did chase after a deer. So, instead of running after the dog in boots, I was in yellow Dutch-shoe slippers. I ran around our little house, through the pricker bush thatch, up the large hill, and down half of the other side of the large hill, all the while yelling, “Yogi! Yogi! Yogi!” It was dark, I was cold, my slippers were ruined and the moral of this story is that we need to fence the other half of the yard.