I bought a Serta Memory Foam pad to lay across my mattress. When I took it out of the box, it was incredibly compressed. After it decompressed, all that air it absorbed made it really heavy and difficult to manipulate.
Getting on the bed for a well deserved nap, the three dogs that sleep with me had their own reactions. Muffin who is a poodle mix, that is the latest vet's guess and she does have a laid back poodle personality, loved the new pad.
Louise was cool with it. But she let me know it was different. Dude who is a Chihuahua mix did not like it. But loving me, he could tolerate it. I've had the best rest I have had in a long time.
Now if I could get rid of the aggravations in my life. I'll be howling at the moon later tonight.
I had started sleeping on a sofa around 2009. I had a room added onto my house so my sister could live comfortably in the house. Long story short, I had too much to do to set up my bedroom that I had added. You get behind, you get more behind. Then I quit my job in 2010 and really the journey began. You have to have time to coherently know your situation.
I'm too lazy to meditate. I like the zing, zing, zing of reading another book, watching television, walking the dog. I get my best writing ideas while mowing grass. I would say talking to people but I am talked to death. I know this is not a good attitude for my mental health. I plan to go back to water aerobics to socialize as well as exercise.
I had gotten use to sleeping on my side on a sofa. My special dog Frankie, slept at my feet. Then Louise began to sleep along my legs. Sounds cramped but her body heat stopped my legs from cramping at night. When Frankie passed, Louise wasted no time taking his spot on the sofa.
Muffin would sleep on the floor beside the sofa. Dude slept on the back of the sofa. Heaven help me sort my dogs out if I ever have a man in my life.
It is daunting to know you are growing older. I've felt the invisibility of being retired. I had the idea to not talk about writing until I was ready to publish. I did not know that four years later; I would be no closer. So I stand in that no man's land of what I do. My type A personality flickers like a spark of electricity going nowhere.
Well I make sure folks are where they are supposed to be, the dishes are washed, negotiate their feelings, juggle what I can do. Shrug off what I can't do. I've opened up to people I would have just passed with the least interaction I could.
I would make a list of resolutions of what I will not do as I grow older. I know better than to tempt fate. I think I will just keep a vague thought. One thing I do know is you grow older as the same person you were when you were young. You do change from experience and resolution; but, that template of how you react to life is there.
Now my stories are totally fictitious. There is an element of an alter ego that I guess could be called wish fulfilment that are the germ of an outrageous piece of dialog. Sort of like actors think of something terribly sad to bring tears for a scene. I also find myself incorporating aggravating people into stories. They are so rich for exploitation. So the beware, don't make me mad or I will write about you is not a threat but a truth.
Anyway, I hope everyone sleeps as well as I will tonight on my memory foam.