Some weeks are productive. Some weeks are relaxing. Some weeks are inspiring journeys of personal growth…
And then there are weeks where you basically stumble from one day to the next, fueled by questionable amounts of sleep, conversations with dogs, and the stubborn belief that eventually Friday will arrive.
Welcome to my week.
It started out humid. Not just warm. HUMID. The kind of humidity where you walk outside and the atmosphere immediately climbs into your clothing and makes itself comfortable. Apparently Mother Nature decided Ontario needed to experience what it feels like to live inside somebody’s armpit.
Still, I was trying to be positive. I was thankful. I was getting things done. I was out working, walking dogs and generally participating in all of that irritating grown up stuff we’re apparently expected to continue doing indefinitely.
Nobody tells you when you’re a child that adulthood is mostly just doing things you don’t particularly want to do while repeatedly saying, “Okay, I guess I have to deal with this now.”
It’s 100% false advertising.
The weather wasn’t helping. It was hot and humid. And somewhere along the way I was functioning on approximately four hours of sleep, which is less “well-rested adult woman” and more “feral woodland creature who has somehow obtained car keys.”
At that point, an afternoon nap wasn’t laziness, it was medically adjacent.
Then Tuesday arrived, because apparently Monday hadn’t done enough damage.
One of my dog-walking clients wasn’t feeling quite like himself. Thankfully, he was okay, but when you work with animals you notice those little changes. It’s one of those parts of the job people don’t necessarily think about. You’re not simply showing up, attaching a leash and wandering around the neighborhood while collecting money. You get attached to these little weirdos.
You learn their personalities. You know who’s going to stop at every tree. You know who needs encouragement. You know who’s going to behave beautifully and who is currently considering making a terrible decision because they may be part demon or something.
And somehow, despite the poop bags, weather, mud, barking and occasional canine nonsense, I genuinely love what I do.
They say, “Find a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” That’s not entirely accurate. You’ll absolutely work. You’ll just have significantly more dog hair in your life.
Tuesday also brought some thoughts about Facebook and social media, because apparently I hadn’t suffered enough.
I’ve noticed the more of a push to pay Facebook to push posts, and I’m still not particularly interested in playing that game. Full disclosure, I have paid for Facebook adds in the past and it really didn’t do anything. I gave them money for nothing, just like Dire Straits sang. I appreciate everyone who comments, shares, interacts and helps my posts reach other people organically. That kind of support actually means something to me.
Paying Facebook because Facebook has decided Facebook would like more money? Facebook already has Facebook money. So, I’m good. I’ll keep doing what I’m doing, growing things naturally, talking to the people who actually want to be here and appreciating every person who chooses to interact with my content.
Sometimes the algorithm likes me, sometimes the algorithm behaves as though I’ve personally insulted its mother. We just carry on.
Then Wednesday showed up.
By this point, caffeine and I had apparently entered a complicated phase of our relationship because I was drinking decaf.
Decaf. Ugh.
Coffee without caffeine is basically a warm beverage wearing a coffee costume. I’m drinking it. I’m accepting it. I’m trying not to be bitter about it. Which is convenient, because apparently the coffee isn’t bitter either.
Wednesday also brought a new chapter with the neighbor , because every good week needs at least one subplot nobody asked for. This one was different though! My dead hedge situation, well I got the morning surprise I wasn’t expecting or asking for!
I suddenly found myself with a beautifully filled hedge full of wood from the Great Tree Branch Debacle. Yes, that branch is still languishing dramatically in my yard like it pays property taxes, but all the smaller pieces of wood have now found themselves a new home.
The wonderful guy who weeds my yard decided he was going to help me deal with the mess. Rather than dragging all that wood out front and waiting for garbage day like some sort of responsible adult, he had a much better idea: over the fence it went! 😂 He piled everything neatly into the hedge, and while it may not look like much right now, to me it is GLORIOUS. That hedge is finally filling in, the wood is out of my yard, and absolutely none of it required me sweating while hauling branches around. Everybody wins.
Then, as if he hadn’t already earned himself a place in my Favourite Humans Hall of Fame, he told me he’s also going to cut up the giant branch that’s still lying in my yard. I had planned on dealing with it myself once the weather cooled down because apparently I enjoy making terrible plans for Future Me. He basically said, Nah, I’ll take care of it.
Well, sir.
You have yourself a deal.
I will happily stand aside and allow someone else to operate the saw while I supervise from a safe distance, preferably holding a beverage and offering important managerial advice such as, “Yep, that branch still looks branchy.”
And yes, he will absolutely be getting a very good tip for doing it. He’s such a genuinely nice guy, and I’m incredibly lucky that he looks out for me like this.
Meanwhile, the giant branch can enjoy its final days languishing in my yard.
Your time is coming, Branch. 😂🌳
Thankfully, Thursday brought dogs. Dogs fix many things. There was Miss Luna, being ridiculously adorable living her best life. Honestly, dogs have cracked the system. No job. No bills. Free housing. Someone prepares every meal for you. Transportation provided. Medical care covered. Random treats for simply existing and people regularly tell them they’re beautiful.
Meanwhile, I answer one email and feel like I’ve accomplished something extraordinary. There was also Miss Rocky, hanging out with me while I attempted to convince myself that although the week had gotten a little behind the eight ball, we were catching up.
That’s another thing I’ve learned: sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind, and sometimes you’re staring at your to-do list wondering when exactly it reproduced.
But we were getting there.
Slowly.
Things were being accomplished.
And I was even contemplating doing something productive around my own front yard, which frankly deserves recognition because after spending my days walking other people’s dogs, the motivation to come home and enthusiastically tackle yard work isn’t always overflowing. My yard and I have an understanding. I don’t judge it. It doesn’t judge me. I water everything and the neighbor weeds.
Thursday also handed me one of those little moments that catches you off guard: someone said something kind and reminded me of something I needed to hear. It’s funny how that happens.
You can be cruising along, handling everything, doing what needs doing and convincing yourself that you’ve got it all under control when someone says one simple thing and suddenly you’re thinking, Well…dammit. I needed that.
Sometimes people are wonderful. Which is inconvenient because it interferes with my long-standing theory that people are generally exhausting.
Then we were finally staring down the weekend. Glorious. Beautiful. Magnificent. It’s Friday!
I was out walking dogs in the woods, where they were doing what dogs apparently consider vital scientific research: smelling absolutely everything.
Every tree.
Every leaf.
Every suspicious patch of dirt.
Every spot another dog may have peed sometime during the Mulroney administration. (I am 🇨🇦)
There is no rushing this process.
You might think you’re taking a dog for a walk. You are not. You are escorting a tiny forensic investigator through an active crime scene.
“Interesting. Someone was here.”
“Yes, Buddy. It’s a public trail.”
“WAIT. I HAVE DETECTED SOMETHING.”
“That’s another dog’s pee.”
“I MUST INVESTIGATE.”
And there I stand, holding the leash, reconsidering every decision that brought me to this moment. With some of these doggos, I need to make sure I am constantly looking around for other dogs or things that could tip the scales and turn a perfectly lovely floofy footed luvbug into a snarling, shark on a leash.
But then one of them looks up at you with that ridiculous happy face, and suddenly they’re an angel again.
Manipulative little freeloaders.
By the end of the week, I was looking forward to a weekend where hopefully I wouldn’t be bothered by too many people, too many responsibilities or too many unexpected adventures.
That’s the dream anyway.
Will it happen? Probably not. Something will occur. Someone will need something. A dog will roll in something horrifying. Facebook will change something nobody asked them to change. My neighbour may discover a new and innovative use for my backyard, or I’ll sit down for five minutes and immediately remember seventeen things I was supposed to do.
But that’s life.
It’s messy. It’s funny. It’s occasionally humid. Sometimes you’re running on four hours of sleep. Sometimes your coffee has been cruelly stripped of its caffeine. Sometimes you’re behind the eight ball, and sometimes you actually feel like you’ve got your shit together.
Usually for about eleven minutes.
And then there’s another dog to walk.
Another ridiculous story.
Another reason to laugh.
Another week somehow survived.
So here’s to the weekend, to sleeping in if the universe allows it, avoiding unnecessary people, enjoying the dogs, ignoring the yard for at least another five minutes, and remembering that being a little behind doesn’t mean you’re failing.
Sometimes you’re just catching up.
Preferably with coffee.
Even if it’s decaf.
Allegedly. 😂
Enjoying the chaos that is my life? Subscribe to The Cool Beans! It’s cheaper than therapy and slightly more organized 
The Cool Beans 
Leave a comment