Three Titles and Tuesday Trash

Today I took advantage of one of those "use it or lose it" days (only 8 more to go before 12/31!).

Once upon a time that would have meant this girl could be found sleeping in and then later, curled in the corner of the couch with a small white wookie cuddled close, cuppa and book in hand, wearing her jammies all day ... you get the picture. However, that is no longer the case. Now there is a little princess who is very demanding about her morning outdoor time, there is a little diabetic (not diabolical) wookie who has to eat and then have his insulin during a specific time frame, there is a father who needs daily meds set out, there is breakfast to prep, kitchen to clean, laundry to start, etc. etc. There is a routine that doesn't change, just because the pupper-momma/the daughter decides to take a day off.

Plus ... it's Tuesday and I am now a homeowner. Tuesday is trash day. I don't have the luxury of simply tossing my trash into a dumpster whenever I feel like it. My trash must now go to the curb to be picked up by the men who swing by in the huge garbage truck. And my trashmen? Yeah, they always, always, always come EARLY ... like 8am early ... and I spent the weekend in the garage working to finally get my sweet, red baby's room cleaned enough for her to be able to easily spend the winter inside. Having succeeded in that task, there is a corner of the garage that currently has enough trash to make about 3 trips to the curb with my little red wagon, only 2 if I stack it high and chance it not falling and making a mess.

Plus it was 15 degrees outside this morning.

FIFTEEN!!!

And, no, I couldn't take it out last night before bed. The way the north wind was whipping "down the plain", my trash bags would have ended up in the Gulf of Mexico and I would have been fined by some environmentalist group.

But I digress.

So it was that on this frigidly, cold (yet oddly beautifully bright and clear) morning ... up, up, up, this girl got on her day off ... to go stand in the kitchen watching the sun begin it's rise over the back fence through her window, wishing she had remembered where she left her slippers, while waiting for the tea kettle to whistle for her cuppa ... finding her slippers separately - one under the side of the kitchen table, one over by her comfy chair - while giving "before breakfast" meds to small white wookie while Princess K begins her morning inspection of the yard ... watching the two in their sweaters, sniffing, chasing, playing through the window while she preps the Keurig before her dad comes looking for his coffee ... feeding the pups before their tummies collapse and their voices break eardrums ... locating a pair of sweats, socks and shoes to put on with night shirt because she's just not quite ready to be completely dressed for the day ... giving a small wookie his insulin ... then, at 7:50a, heading to the hall closet to put on hat, coat and scarf before braving the cold to begin toting the mountain of trashbags, boxes and paraphernalia from the corner of the garage to the curb before the trashmen cometh.

Yeah.

Bad news/good news ...

Bad news ... dressing and rushing was for naught. Monday was a holiday. Trash day is moved. The trashmen won't be here today ... they will run tomorrow instead. *sigh*

Good news ... I realized my date error BEFORE I opened the garage door to the Arctic blast.

I'm taking the win.

I celebrated by coming back in and putting my coat, hat and scarf back in the closet, getting a load of laundry started, fixing scrambled eggs for someone's breakfast and playing rotating door person for a couple of pups who really want to romp in the sunshine but can't stay out long without freezing little tails.

I am thinking though, if I time it right, I can possibly carve out an hour to enjoy a second cuppa and a chapter in my book this afternoon. If I get incredibly lucky, I can catch another hour to do some more writing. Maybe. Maybe not. Events of the day will tell.

And that's okay. Cause I'm the puppermom & the daughter & the homeowner ....three titles I'm pretty pleased to represent.

So ... How Was YOUR Morning?

Today's first entry in the file entitled "Dear Tuesday, Why are you acting like Monday?" goes like this:
Woke up late this morning.
Actually not late ... I was L.A.T.E! The kind of late where you feel you as though you were awakened by a defibrillator, your heart is beating so fast. The "eyes look at the clock and your brain clicks in with a massive freak out and you are moving before your feet even hit the floor" kind of late.
It has been years since I overslept this badly. 15 minutes ... even 30 minutes late is workable. You adjust your time table accordingly.
Normally, I get up so that I can have 2 hours to prep for my day - spending a bit of quiet time and my cuppa before waking the household, getting out and distributing meds for Dad and the little white wookie not to mention getting my vitamins, spending some time with my green plant babies - both front and back yards - watering, trimming, talking, encouraging, giving Dad a reminder of the day's schedule, giving love and playing with my furrbabies, fixing my lunch (and sometimes snacks) for the day and ... oh yeah! ... getting cleaned up and dressed for my day.
Then there is the fact that today, being Tuesday, means that trash has to get to the curb, especially important on hot summer days when the trash is stinky and I don't want it left in the garage.
That would be my normal morning. Two hours covers it. I'm not rushed and can kinda ease into my day.
There was no easing this morning.
This morning, I had 40 minutes. Yep. 4-0. Forty. F.O.R.T.Y.
Panic doesn't even come close.
Hindsight begs the question, why not call and advise will be an hour or so late.
But that is hindsight. Panicked, freaked out brain didn't think that way. Panicked, freaked out brain kept shouting, "hustle your butt! hustle your butt! Faster! Faster!" Oy!
Needless to say, the morning was not as normal.
My quiet time ... yeah, no, that didn't happen.
My morning cuppa ... oooooh, how I missed you.
Household wake up ... I hollered, furrbabies came. Dad was a bit slower.
Morning meds ... Dad got his, Cas got his, no vitamins for me this morning.
Watering my green babies ... back yard babies got brief shower from the hose, front yard babies got 1 water can only, not the usual 2 - no talking, trimming and long gentle showers for anyone.
Dad's daily schedule ... told him to stay home, it's too hot outside for him to be doing anything anyway.
Furrbaby love ... Shouted "Momma loves you, baby, now move out of the way!". (Will likely pay for THAT one tonight)
Fixed my lunch ... yeah, that's a big NOPE. Stockpile from my drawer and the vending machine for lunch it is!
Cleaned up and dressed ... well, my teeth are brushed and so is my hair. I remembered deodorant at the last minute and, by God's Grace, clean clothes had already been laid out last night. Plus a huge "Thank goodness!" for showering before bed last night.
Kisses were thrown and "gotta run!" was shouted as I ran out the door.
Then, last but not least ...
Trash to the curb ... grabbed it as I ran through the garage, got in the car and tossed the bag out by the curb while driving out of driveway.
(Note: Did not speed to work. Speeding causes tickets. No speeding by this chick!)
Arrived at work only 8 minutes late.
Hmm. Kind of funny side note.
On normal days ... I am usually 10 to 15 minutes late for work. I don't mean to be. I try very hard to get out the door when I'm supposed to but, since it has been that way for 20 years now, I don't see it changing.
I think if I were to show up on time, my manager thinks would think something was wrong. 🤭

Happy Tuesday!