I'm hoping your day was as pleasant as mine. I have been doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, basically all day, and it's been great.
Sure, I went a little overboard at the gym yesterday and the knee I twisted 3 weeks ago and the tendon on the same leg I overstretched 2.5 weeks ago was acting up all day, but just because you can barely walk upstairs doesn't mean you have to have a crap day.
I didn't get any eggs, because my last 3 were added to the crate the roomies put into the egg holder and then used for the scramble they made 3 days ago (I know because the pan is there, next to the baking sheet they burned home made fries on Monday, which doesn't bug me as much as the peelings in the sink that have been there since Monday too - doesn't stink, I wash too many dishes over the pile of plates and cups on top of them), but I've learned how to make a family meal's worth of food while only clearing enough counter space for one plate, and had a delightful set of leftovers for every meal of the day, and I didn't repeat a meal ;)
I've been single handedly taking care of the dog since Friday, partially by my asking so he would quit texting me to take care of the fuzzbucket every 4 hours, but I still refuse to mop the hardwood floors of the paw prints.
I woke up at the same time as a work day, but only long enough to walk once around the house, take the dog for a piss, then decide I'm too tired for this BS and crawl back into bed, no matter how sunny it is out.
I thought I'd make it down to the shore today, maybe stroll along the boardwalk, but the day just didn't get there.
After all this, I stand firmly with my first statement. I had a loverly day. Yes, loverly, like in My Fair Lady, if you haven't seen it, Go. Now. It's. Fantastic. Yes. You. If you don't believe me, go ask your wife.
I was in bed and asleep when I felt like it last night, not when I was done driving around the neighborhood to avoid hearing the roomies fuck.
I woke up when I felt like it (after the morning dog run that is), not when the kid started playing basketball in the house or when someone burnt the toast or when they hollered that they would be leaving in 10 minutes and it's time to get some shoes on.
I ate when I wanted, not when they were done with their canoodle fest in front of the stove.
I made coffee when I wanted, not when they were done spraying the room with the espresso maker's foamer function and it was the flavor I wanted and it was the amount I wanted - not whatever I could get before they tossed it to make theirs.
I decided it was time to get outside, so I took the dog to the dog park. My Cesar Milan training kicked in, I made sure he knew I was his master, I made the rules, and then let him run free for almost two full hours before he walked right into the waiting entry/exit cage and waited patiently for me to grab his leash and take him home. Yes, I am that much of a dog person that someone else's dog that I didn't talk to the first 3 times he lived in my house is now my bitch. He follows me and listens to me and sleeps in my room. Bow if you must, applause suits me as well.
We came home, we had lunch, I texted back the roomie (3:30pm now, first contact) that the neighbor did not need to be sent over, that the dog and I were doing just fine thanks.
I watched TV at the volume I prefer, not whatever it has to be to be audible over the roar of whatever is going on downstairs, not to overpower the romp 2 rooms over, and it didn't have to be switched to a movie or CD so I could blast the surround sound system and listen to what I want to listen to.
Even when they came home, I took the dog out, I fed him, I made a cup of tea all while she was making him chicken soup because he got sick. We chatted, about the dog mostly, then I went upstairs and continued my laundry, the dog following right behind me the whole time.
Today felt triumphant. Like I have a life that I have some control over. That I don't have to be strictly reactionary. I have even reconsidered responding to the New Roomie website emails from possible new places to live. The commute would be shorter, the room would be bigger, the roomie would surely come with a new set of complaints. With a few good days under my belt, I'm looking out the window to the red buds of spring on every other tree and planning to see them bloom.
Don't get too excited, surely with the boss coming back tomorrow, month end around the corner, Spring Break for the roomie here and surely mornings where the gf's house works better for him and therefore I'm responsible for the morning dog duty as well as getting to work somewhat on time... well, let's just remember that I'm a damn nightmare of a self loathing apathetic snatch when Flo is due. All that candid description of my day could just have easily been one of the rants you've so come to expect, right? Turns out that all I need for a good day or 4 is some sunshine, some exercise, a cup of coffee in the morning and dinner when I'm hungry for it, and a good night's sleep. Honestly, from you, my trusted audience, do my requirements to wear a smile seem so high maintenance to you that I have to document the good days when I get them?