We spent most of last Saturday sitting around, watching my parents entertain our dog, waiting for a junk hauler to take our washer/dryer unit to a friend’s. The replacement washer that was supposed to be delivered the same day apparently arrived in town damaged, so who knew when an undamaged unit might be in, much less when we could get it scheduled. We washed every scrap of laundry Friday night in preparation. The dryer and replacement washer came Thursday, and we hardly noticed any hardship.
Over the next few days, after work, I primed and painted just the wall behind where the units would go in the laundry room. That was my intention with the wall behind the piano last summer, too — not to worry about the rest of the living room, just get this one wall done because moving the piano would be a pain in the ass — and then I painted the whole thing. This time I was able to stick to my original task without too much eyelid twitching. (That said, the rest of the room is being painted this week.)
Speaking of involuntary movements, my dentist gave me a thicker nightguard on Thursday and I thought I was going to hate it but it’s turning out to be amazing. After noticing that my three-year-old nightguard was getting somewhat worn, I sent the mold of my upper jaw along with Stephen during his appointment a few weeks ago, with the clarifying note I did not want the whitening-tray-thin guard they once offered me. I wanted the one that was two layers laminated together. Except I didn’t use that terminology; I said the “thicker” one. I knew something was off when they called to confirm that, and then when my usual hygienist said something as she was reviewing my chart. I tried it on in the chair and felt that old prickle of panic I felt as a kid when something interfered with my sleep, be it hot stale summer air or a new pillow that has no cool side or both. I thought of the month between getting temporary crowns and getting the last nightguard, made to fit the permanent crowns, trying to sleep with a drugstore nightguard that was only bite surfaces.
“Give it a try,” the dentist urged me.
So I did. The first night wasn’t great but my Fitbit says I’m spending 30% less time awake overnight.
At the end of the week our ongoing, sporadic email chain with the dog’s rescuer/walker, fosters, and littermates’ owners resurrected over the subject of their birthday. We found ourselves standing with three of the brothers’ owners in the back corner of the Shelby Dog Park - not the worst dog park in Nashville, but not the best - unsuccessfully avoiding dog poop left behind by lazy people and hoping none of the people who brought in toddlers (children under 10 are not supposed to be at Metro dog parks) wandered our way. The dogs all look very different now, with very different personalities. The two absent pups were the only girl and the largest dog in the litter; we all wondered how different they might be.
Stephen and the dog napped the whole afternoon while I was at a workshop led by Megan Stielstra. I usually really hate that level of class participation, but she’s very skilled at making everyone feel comfortable. I had no expectations going in; while most of my reading in the last year and a half has been reactive and deadline driven (have to read that lit mag before going to have wine and talking about it, have to read that book before that Q & A) this time I just … didn’t read the book yet.
I am doing better overall, though, about reading. Mostly because I’ve made an effort over the last month or so to open the Kindle app if I can’t sleep, rather than the nightmare box that is Twitter. I keep thinking about using the Goodreads API to share some things I’ve read without unlocking my account too much. There’s apparently no endpoint for the yearly reading challenge, which is disappointing.