For three days we had rain. For three days I didn’t have a phone. For three days I didn’t have a computer. They were all different three days mixed together into one seven day week.
It wasn’t too bad. I did lose almost every single phone number I’ve collected over many years. And almost every single email I’ve collected over many years. Causing great inconvenience, but really, worst things could have been lost. I’ll feel it most come tax time, because my invoicing and tax system relied on folders of email, due to my terrible business accounting skills. I’ll worry about it then. Procrastinating is one of my very best skills, waiting for that shoe to drop later, when future me then realizes past me definitely blew it.
Loss of data, a worry, but it’s easy to make more. Doesn’t live and breathe. Can’t worry about losing something like that.
It was tremendous after three days of rain to get back out on a walk. The good of this outweighed the bad of missing data. Only three dogs walk now. We didn’t even walk far, certainly not far enough for those three. Just enough to stretch our legs and look at all the streams rushing down the hills. My waterproof boots don’t fit anymore, I just put on thick socks and have wet feet by the end of it all, one walk is as far as I can go til I’m tired of the wet.
When there’s three days of rain, I’m glad Banksy has transformed into a grown up dog. Grown up dogs just sleep away rainy days, they don’t stare at specks and chew on rugs and chair legs. They lay around patiently and snore. In a few months she’ll be three, three years old sounds very grown up.
Three little black dogs don’t mind the rain at all. Gustavo prefers not to get wet, unless it involves a creek. He has a mysterious ability to not pee for very, very long stretches of time. Ruby gets carried down the three steps down to the yard, set down to pee, then carried back up and set in her blue chair. She doesn’t walk far at all now, but can be lifted out of places and set down. Every so often she busts out in a shaky, wobbly run and tears across the field while we all watch in horror and amazement, because it’s not going to end well, she’ll topple over and cry. So I do a lot of lifting.
We went to the neighbor’s for a drunken holiday sing-a-long on one of the rainy nights. Madonna was on the caroling list, they’re my new favorite neighbors. Only there for a few hours, but Otterpop sat in our window sill and howled for all three hours. I never leave her home anymore, this is what she’ll do. So she gets tucked under my arm and toted along, and has to sleep in the car. She’s skinny now, I barely feel her weight, little underarm tote-along dog. Otterpop’s no less the shit disturber now than she’s always been.
The other three stay home, sleep away the hours, no big deal. I walk back in, we own three pieces of furniture, one for each stay at home dog. Exactly the right number, when one dog comes along. Eventually we’ll be three dogs, the blue chair will be empty. Not yet, though. But I practice right now, to start counting things in threes.