At Doggie Daycare

There are probably three people in my life that know where this post if going already.

And it’s not because I’ve talked to them already. I haven’t told them about the kind of day I’ve had. Haven’t told them how it took me almost ten minutes to realize that every time I looked up at the Hulu sign-in screen and pushed a button to sign it didn’t work. Ten minutes to realize I wasn’t pushing the right button in the first place, each time looking up at the screen like I hadn’t seen it before. Yes, I am that tired.

They’ll know that without having to read a single word beyond the title.

Today is the kind of day where I am, at last, where they’ll imagine me to be. After a long last-day-before-spring-break, a trip to Costco, and a dishwasher full like a drying rack, I have declared it.

Declared what? you ask.

“Nap time at Doggie Daycare!”

Of course, I’ll try to watch last night’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy first. And no, I don’t run a Doggie Daycare.

Naptime at Doggie Daycare is the way Mom has declared nap time since my almost-sixteen-year-old was still taking them at her house upstairs from where my sister still lived. They are the ones who will know, all three of them.

They’ll know that the dogs are snuggled in for a mid-day treat, one at my feet and one on the floor. That is all it takes to be Doggie Daycare. And it is naptime here.

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