It almost seemed to be a guilty pleasure to take a nap this afternoon. For decades, I have tried to remain consistently busy. It’s almost a phobia I have, that I might be considered “lazy”, should I take a break, go to the gym, read a book or watch television anytime there might be some “work” to do. A constant source of amusement for my wife is my fascination with the big 65 inch or larger OLED 4K televisions at Costco, as she rarely has seen me sit still for more than 30 minutes in a week, to watch something on our 10-year old TV. I don’t mind others watching television or sitting at the computer though. Besides our respective jobs over the last decades, our weeks are in constant motion. The routine like grocery shopping or a trip to the hardware store is only part of it. People-time is a big part of our week. When we are home, I feel compelled to organize something in the garage, office or closet. I wash dishes or put away laundry. I will do a little yard work.
I can recognize phobias, particularly when they occur in animals. When I take Dexter or Comet to the veterinarian, they waltz right inside the waiting room, tails wagging, anticipating meeting everybody inside (even after receiving vaccinations). Many people I see are cajoling, carrying, or dragging their pooch in the door.
Loud noises, such as fireworks or thunderstorms make Dexter cower. He starts puffing and panting, pacing about looking for the smallest corner -usually under my wife’s feet or my feet at our writing desks. Fortunately, these noisy events occur with the same rarity each year in San Diego, so I haven’t resorted to doggie medication.
This afternoon’s thunderstorm was not what woke Comet or me from our nap. It was Dexter’s anxious panting at my bedside. But I had to get up. I needed to check the car windows, retrieve the now-emptied garbage cans from the driveway, and now I can sit down to blog. It is my turn to sacrifice. As I sit with Dexter dreaming away under my desk, I need to be doing something.