The dog pooped...no, crapped, in the art room(it became far too messy to just be considered poop). Not in the hallway, not in the workout room, but in my newly created “space of my own let me dance and enjoy being Nelda here” art room. The first time I just rolled my eyes. It was not a big mess to remove. The second got worse. And the third was on my new art books and on some of my work under the architecture table. Yes, he ate something that apparently did not agree with him. Yes, he knows to bark at the back door. No, he did bark for some odd reason and yes, it was messier at each shot.

My dog is a Golden Retriever Mix that I love dearly…he is a great companion and will not let anyone in my home who would harm us. He is gentle, friendly, and ferocious at the same time. He knows people…he can read them in some way and to date…has never been wrong about the character of a person. He has never done this before but he has certainly made a mess of things this time.

I just shampooed these carpets last month. I am certain there is some great spiritual lesson here…maybe you could add it for me!! In the meantime…ummm, I’m busy.

My husband drives me nuts. Not in a bad way, really, more like in an unnerving fashion that is a little difficult to understand. He does the dishes. Constantly. He rarely waits on the dishes, even when more pressing matters are at hand. I don’t get it. Here is this guy with a master’s degree in public policy who loves the mundane task of doing dishes. He also has a similar response to the laundry. What is up with this guy?

Don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that I never have to do the dishes. I rarely do laundry…this is good to my thinking. I feel a bit selfish at times, and guilty in short waves, but overall I do enjoy having more free time on my hands. I do, however, wonder why all of life seems to be preempted by soap suds in one form or another. Perhaps my problem is that I would gladly wait for the clothes to overflow their perspective hampers and literally wave at me from their forgotten state until the job had to be tackled with a sort of enthusiastic loathing, as it should be done. But no, I am married to a man who must rescue the clothing as soon as one load can be accomplished.

My darling husband also makes my coffee while I shower in the morning. This I love. So why, why my adverse reaction to the dishes and laundry obsession? I wish to declare that I would not allow the dishes to stack up…I do love a clean kitchen counter. I just have an aversion to him doing them all the time. Does he not trust me? Is the very action of doing the dishes a passing shot at my procrastinating nature? Am I over analyzing this?

I just don’t know. But, I think I will go dirty up another coffee cup about now, and create another dirty towel…wouldn’t want him slacking off today.