I Don’t Eat Worms, Especially on Vacation


The first day back at work after over a week’s vacation went pretty much as I thought it would – hectic in the morning, yet calmer and saner in the afternoon.

Certainly I didn’t want to come back to work. Why would I ever want to get up at 6:30 in the morning and drive through traffic in subfreezing temperatures, just so I can hang out at work for 10+ hours?

Admittedly, given our lack of discretionary spending money, I was tired of sitting around the house with little to do. If my wife and I were getting along better these days, then it might not have been so bad.

A couple of days ago, however, she had been cleaning, and ended up moving all my toiletry items around in the bathroom. That was totally unacceptable. A fight ensued, and I got very little out of her in the way of civilities for the rest of the day. Not fun.

Given strife at home, coupled with no money to leave home with to spend on something, it was time to go back to work. Albeit, I wish work would start a little later in the morning.

The earliest I awoke on any day of my vacation was about 9:30. Yes, it felt good to get a relatively early start that day, but I was just as content as when I remained nestled in my bed until 11:00 or 12:00 on other days.

One particular day when my wife and I had been arguing earlier that morning, I stayed in bed until 2:00. I wasn’t sleeping the whole time; I did, however, just want time to myself to hide from the world and regroup.

My son and I were discussing sleep habits recently. I told him that ideally I would go to bed between 3:00 and 4:00 am, and get up about 9:00 or 10:00. I am very much a night owl – always have been. I enjoy the quiet solitude of a late night by myself. I don’t know that my brain is necessarily more alive at that time (as opposed to earlier in the evening), but it just feels better.

Recently I read a particularly interesting portion of Anais Nin’s diary in which she describes Henry and June Miller’s nocturnal habits. As much of a night owl as I am, those two had me beat. Of Henry, Nin says, “At dawn he likes to sit and watch the tired prostitutes walking home.” Of June she writes, “She hates daylight.” She is “a woman whom daylight cannot touch”.

I like to stay up late, however I prefer to fall asleep well before the sun comes up. It messes with my head otherwise – the whole circadian rhythm and all.

Interestingly, I went through a period in college when I voluntarily got up every day about 7:30 or 8:00, even on weekends. I’m not sure why I did this. Looking back on this time, I have to say it was pleasant; I felt like I was getting a good jump on the day.

Ah, how young and foolish I was back then, neglecting my beloved sleep for a few extra rays of sunshine.

I don’t believe I’ll ever truly be an early bird. No ragrets there.night owl

A few tidbits

My cat is filling in for me. He wrote today’s post.

I’ve seen a lot in my ten years. I’ve watched many others come and go, but I have outlasted them all. My beginning was not promising. I was scrawny and weak. No one suspected that I would grow into the fine male specimen I am.

I watch everything, taking it all in, safely out of reach and mostly out of sight from my perch high atop the bureau.  M was the only one who had been here longer than I, but she perished two years ago. Now I have seniority over all the rest. None other can challenge me on this.

Even though M is long gone now, she and I were the best of friends. Sure, she was slightly abusive at times. I grew weary of her dragging me across the hardwood floor and using me as her chew toy. But we romped and played together every day throughout the entire house.

Too often she got the best of me, because I have no claws or real defense after all, except for a menacing hiss. However, I know she meant well; it was all in the spirit of love and the bond of kinship. Canines can be great companions, if you can find a good one, that is. And she truly was a good one.

My unintended “vacation” away from the family was both unannounced and unpleasant.  My siblings and I played peacefully outside that winter after I was born, but SHE thought I needed to be indoors. So SHE marched two houses down the hill and snatched me from my home. SHE tried to make me want to stay there, even going so far as to remove my most private parts. Simply put, that was uncalled for. I’ve never really been the same since. The whole experience was the worst nine months of my life.

However, I’ll never forget that frigid December day the next winter when I was finally able to sneak out that foul woman’s back door. I’ll be forever grateful for M’s role in my safe return.

After I found my way back to the family’s yard M, thinking I was a vagabond, cornered me in the shed and began barking her head off. The woman of the family then came running to see what was wrong. Let me tell you, she was very happy to see me. And I was happy to be back in a home where I knew I wouldn’t lose any more body parts.

Now I sit at the top of the heap. Even though L is almost as old as M was, she has lived in the home for a shorter time. She isn’t nearly as friendly as her older sister was. I guess she didn’t get the memo that canines are supposed to bounce around and romp joyously all the time.

The two younger canines can be a handful at times, but I notice them mellowing more as they mature. I certainly need a break from all the drama. I’m still at the top of my game, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good afternoon nap, or morning nap, or even a good evening nap. The peace and quiet does my body good.

Ciao. Here’s hoping the next decade is as good as the the first.


Not one of my better days