Keep Going



The day started with a burglar alarm. We set it off often enough ourselves, and that’s usually evident. But at quarter to six on a Sunday morning we weren’t thinking straight and I let my husband take our dog and go investigate. The burglar was still in the garage. Thank God he was just a burglar and not someone bent on home invasion. He’d forced a padlocked chain link gate and jimmied a locked door to get in. He apparently took one thing and then came back to see what else struck his fancy when he was interrupted.

Of course, the one thing that was taken belonged to me. It was a yellow and black plastic toolbox that I’ve used for nearly a decade to carry along to dog shows. It was full of ribbons won, show leads, collars, brushes, combs, a little pair of bolt cutters, chalk, conditioner, rain poncho, and in the bottom a 1971 sterling silver Best of Breed award from Westminster. So I feel kind of melancholy about it all. Perhaps he’ll pawn the medal. He’s just as likely to jettison the whole thing into the trash thinking it’s worth nothing.

I found another medal– and my heart leapt up– but then I realized it was not the one in the box. Wrong year.

My husband and I have been at the wrong end of burglaries before, though not since we were together. We are kind of philosophical about it. Our teenaged son is not. He is full of fury at the violation– that someone would come in and take something of ours and he has been stomping around the house playing  out the possible violent scenarios in his head. I’m just glad there was no violence.

This incident gave me cause to go house to house on our block today. First the house to the left, then those down the street, around the corner and the next street over– those houses with which we share an alley. I did  meet some people I’d never met before, Miss Ruby and Miss Ann, and I had nice conversations with everyone. The man who lives at the end of the alley speaks in a whisper. He said he knows who the guy is, and that he will take care of it for me. I don’t know what that means. I’m not sure I want to know what that means.

A burglary should be enough unpleasantness for one day, shouldn’t it? Of course it should. It didn’t play out that way. I am stymied in trying to get a rescued dog from Livingston, MT to Missoula, MT. I lived in Livingston for 18 years, you’d think I’d be able to find someone who could do this. We even offered to pay for the gas.  Maybe tomorrow.

Then this afternoon came an email from one of my husband’s daughters– a girl I’ve known since she was five years old, saying she wanted nothing more to do with us, and to please not send her anymore cards or packages. Funny she didn’t have a problem cashing the last check I sent her. She didn’t have to worry, we’d already decided that we weren’t sending her anything more. No point in trying to buy someone’s affection, is there?

I discovered today that my mysterious great-grandmother was not a very nice person. Colorful, sure. Beautiful, absolutely. But it seems she was bankrupt in some important ways having nothing to do with money. And I also discovered today that long ago my grandmother lied to me. I think she did this out of fear and jealousy– it’s a long and complicated story, not yet ready for these pages. But still, I am so disappointed.

I caught a cold from last weekend’s adventures. It is slow coming on– a scratchy throat, a croaky voice, now my nose is starting to run. I’ve neither dieted nor exercised all week, it’s as if my very soul is exhausted. When my eyes open in the morning, I don’t even feel compelled to get out of bed.

And yet, one foot goes in front of another. When I am most exhausted I tell myself that each step towards the destination is one less that I have to take. It is slow going, like slogging through allegorical muck. But I just have to keep moving, no matter how slowly, just inching my way forward.

Today’s target number remains at 59. Steps today 2216. For breakfast, banana and toast, a packet of trail mix. Lunch tuna sandwich with avocado. 2 oz chocolate. Dinner avocado half with tuna salad (lime juice, teaspoon mayo, sriracha)


2 thoughts on “Keep Going

  1. I had my car stolen when I was working on the OSU vet campus one afternoon. To quote an old adage: “Mean people suck.” I hope karma finds your burglar and hits him soundly with an organic carrot! Hmph!

  2. Hmmm. My shit fairy has a sister. And she’s moved in with you. About that cold…mine was not slow, but it’s ever changing. Don’t know if we have the same one or not, but am sure they originated in the same place. Richard’s and mine both started with the scratchy throat, and from there to an almost total loss of voice for me [it would take an Act of Congress for that to happen to Richard…he STILL manages to talk a blue streak],…and from there….the coughing…and coughing, and hacking, gagging and COUGHING. Oh yeah, we both had fevers for a couple of days, and we are old….so we are wiped out. Thought you’d want to know….Thursday’s meeting is questionable. If this crud gets spread to the rest of the club, I’d like to think we aren’t responsible for anyone else feeling like this.

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