Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Mr. E Made Today Kind Of Great

I tried to nap on the overnight, but couldn't. I needed to nap. The plumber was scheduled to arrive around 8:30 a.m. which meant I either needed to stay up, after Lisa left for work, or sleep for only 2 hours. I attempted to distract my brain with some of my favorite comedians, compliments of Netflix, who share the same warped sense of humor as myself. Louis C.K. John Mulaney. Chelsea Handler. Jim Gaffigan. I sipped diet Pepsi and crunched on ice to muffle my giggles.

Nothing worked. On any other overnight, I would have been able to fall asleep with no problem. I've actually dozed off while watching stand-up comedy. However, because I needed to sleep, my brain was like, "Ha! Ha! Not gonna happen, buttercup."

After 2 hours of toss-and-turn-and-curse-my-writer's-brain this morning, I got up in a slightly pissy mood. Gulped down strong coffee. Tripped over a scatter rug in the kitchen. Cursed myself for using gauze, on the burn that got infected on my finger, that wasn't latex free. Itch. Burn. Shortness of breath. Thankfully, I caught my mistake in time.

I started baking biscuit love at 8 a.m. I figured the plumber would need to shut the water off. I made several batches of biscuit dough and got my little crafty area set up on the kitchen table.

I was still aggravated. 

At around 9 a.m. there was a soft knock on the door. I opened the door. There stood the plumber. He's an older gentleman. Retired. He keeps himself busy by doing side jobs here and there.

He introduced himself and apologized several times for not being able to accommodate my schedule. He explained why. His voice was gentle. He was sincere. I was immediately at ease with Mr. E.

I continued to bake and paint while Mr. E was in the basement. Mr. E knocked on the door when it was time to do what he needed to do in the kitchen. I told him that he didn't need to knock, but I appreciated the courtesy.

Meanwhile, as he worked in the kitchen, the kids barked. Coco and Sophie were in the bedroom. Lobo was in the office. Mr. E asked how many pups I had. I told him. That immediately opened the door for conversation.

I'm not going to lie. Most people I've come in contact with from Mr. E's generation tend to view dogs as "just dogs." They get disgusted at the mere mention of dogs eating from forks, licking plates and bowls, or being allowed on the furniture or bed. And if you refer to your "dog" as a fur-kid or kid or son or daughter, they'll guffaw, wave their hand, and say, "That's blasphemy!"

Not Mr. E. 

His two pups are his babies. The loves of his life. And, he's their Daddy. It was refreshing to hear him talk about his pups in such a way.

We talked in depth about his babies, our babies, the bond pups have between each other that we'll never understand, and we showed each other photos.

At one point, Mr. E said, "I could talk about my babies all day."

Mr. E continued to work. I continued to bake and paint.

A few hours later, when it was time for Mr. E to leave, I gave him a bag of biscuit love. I also gave him a big fat slice of homemade pumpkin bread to snack on while on the road to his next job. His face lit up. A connection was made.

After Mr. E left, I painted more ornaments. Baked more biscuit love. Started the process of refinishing the trunk for our Bodacious Biscuit Love Bin that will be filled with biscuits and pet food for families in need in our town. A beautiful lady donated the wood dog bone we needed for the sign.

The universe has a way of shifting. Doing a little shimmy shake. When I need it the most.

Today ended up being great.

Life. Is. Good.

No comments:

Post a Comment