Sleeping in the wild and showering down the street
Last night was cold. I got out the feather duvet and laid it on the bed, mentally saying goodbye to short sleeves and welcoming the cozy cold weather.
One of the compromises I made with regard to being with Carey was that when he was over, Greta would not be allowed to sleep in the bed with us. We tried it a couple of times, but while I usually sleep like the dead, Carey is a light sleeper, and Greta's occasional movements would wake him up. I had a kennel for her I'd only previously used to keep her in the kitchen when I'd leave the apartment. After the sleeping resolution was made, I'd tell her to go into the kennel at bedtime and then feed her a little treat through the bars. Whether it's was because she remembers the treats (I stopped giving them to her when the vet told me to keep her weight down) or because she really likes the coziness of the kennel, she'll now hop right in the there as soon as she hears me open the little metal door.
In fact, she got so used to the kennel, and Carey began visiting me so often, that she was sleeping there more often than not. After awhile, on nights when Carey was at his place and Greta was sleeping on the bed next to me, she'd hop off the bed in the middle of the night and want to go in her kennel. I'm not sure if my occasional dream-time sleep thrashing bothered her or if she was hoping for a treat once she got in the kennel. But after one too many nights of being woken up at four-o-crazy am, I started kenneling her instead of bringing her to bed with me. Of course I missed her cuddling and soft snores, but I didn't want her to be uncomfortable any more than I wanted to be woken up in the wee hours of the morning.
The chill in the air last night, though, made it perfect for cuddling. I left the door open to Greta's kennel but plopped her on my bed and nested under the covers. It took longer than usual, and I did have to gently remind Greta that my bed was not the place for intimate grooming (and people wonder why I don't like dogs licking even my HAND), but soon she was curled up in a little ball at my side, her husky rhythmic snarf-snore like my own brand of Ambien.
Of course Woody, my turtle, took that moment to begin rearranging every rock in his tank, and I had to not-so-briefly weigh the desire to go over there and silence him versus preserving the warm and comfortable little setup Greta and I had agreed upon (anyone who's ever shred a bed with a pug knows the second you get out of bed, they claim your spot as their own). In the end, I guess Woody's noise wasn't bothering me that much, because I fell asleep while it was in progress.
The morning didn't work out nearly as well. I had to drag myself out of the warm bed (and Greta promptly took my spot). When I'd dressed in enough clothes to stop shivering, I took Greta downstairs for her morning walk and ran into the Super's sister. My morning brain didn't understand what she was saying to me, but then she pointed to the sign on the elevator door "Boiler broken." Awesome. Let me just say that the day before I'd worn my hair in a low ponytail with a headband, which is slightly more subtle than a sign around my neck saying, "I should've washed my hair this morning, but I didn't have time." I NEEDED a shower. The only reason I hadn't taken one the night before was that I planned on doing yoga in the morning.
Which brings me to the first time I've been to the gym since I signed up in August. Don't be too hard on me- I've been exercising- just doing more biking and yoga at home. I got everything else ready, fed Greta, and walked out the door in workout gear at 7:45am. At 8:15 I walked out of the gym, having done 15 minutes on the elliptical and 7 minutes in the hot gym shower. It really wasn't that bad. The gym is only a few blocks away and on my way to work, so I'd really only have to get up a half an hour earlier than I normally do to make it work. I might try it again, on purpose this time.
One of the compromises I made with regard to being with Carey was that when he was over, Greta would not be allowed to sleep in the bed with us. We tried it a couple of times, but while I usually sleep like the dead, Carey is a light sleeper, and Greta's occasional movements would wake him up. I had a kennel for her I'd only previously used to keep her in the kitchen when I'd leave the apartment. After the sleeping resolution was made, I'd tell her to go into the kennel at bedtime and then feed her a little treat through the bars. Whether it's was because she remembers the treats (I stopped giving them to her when the vet told me to keep her weight down) or because she really likes the coziness of the kennel, she'll now hop right in the there as soon as she hears me open the little metal door.
In fact, she got so used to the kennel, and Carey began visiting me so often, that she was sleeping there more often than not. After awhile, on nights when Carey was at his place and Greta was sleeping on the bed next to me, she'd hop off the bed in the middle of the night and want to go in her kennel. I'm not sure if my occasional dream-time sleep thrashing bothered her or if she was hoping for a treat once she got in the kennel. But after one too many nights of being woken up at four-o-crazy am, I started kenneling her instead of bringing her to bed with me. Of course I missed her cuddling and soft snores, but I didn't want her to be uncomfortable any more than I wanted to be woken up in the wee hours of the morning.
The chill in the air last night, though, made it perfect for cuddling. I left the door open to Greta's kennel but plopped her on my bed and nested under the covers. It took longer than usual, and I did have to gently remind Greta that my bed was not the place for intimate grooming (and people wonder why I don't like dogs licking even my HAND), but soon she was curled up in a little ball at my side, her husky rhythmic snarf-snore like my own brand of Ambien.
Of course Woody, my turtle, took that moment to begin rearranging every rock in his tank, and I had to not-so-briefly weigh the desire to go over there and silence him versus preserving the warm and comfortable little setup Greta and I had agreed upon (anyone who's ever shred a bed with a pug knows the second you get out of bed, they claim your spot as their own). In the end, I guess Woody's noise wasn't bothering me that much, because I fell asleep while it was in progress.
The morning didn't work out nearly as well. I had to drag myself out of the warm bed (and Greta promptly took my spot). When I'd dressed in enough clothes to stop shivering, I took Greta downstairs for her morning walk and ran into the Super's sister. My morning brain didn't understand what she was saying to me, but then she pointed to the sign on the elevator door "Boiler broken." Awesome. Let me just say that the day before I'd worn my hair in a low ponytail with a headband, which is slightly more subtle than a sign around my neck saying, "I should've washed my hair this morning, but I didn't have time." I NEEDED a shower. The only reason I hadn't taken one the night before was that I planned on doing yoga in the morning.
Which brings me to the first time I've been to the gym since I signed up in August. Don't be too hard on me- I've been exercising- just doing more biking and yoga at home. I got everything else ready, fed Greta, and walked out the door in workout gear at 7:45am. At 8:15 I walked out of the gym, having done 15 minutes on the elliptical and 7 minutes in the hot gym shower. It really wasn't that bad. The gym is only a few blocks away and on my way to work, so I'd really only have to get up a half an hour earlier than I normally do to make it work. I might try it again, on purpose this time.