I accepted when asked to dog sit for a "friend" and, like the Norman Rockwell painting of the family that comes back from a vacation more worn out than when they left, I need a vacation. I accepted thinking that I wanted to get some extra sleep. That I wanted to fall asleep reading books. That I wanted to linger in bed with four old dogs in with me, reading books. I wanted to take the dogs out on long walks in nature - as long as their old legs would allow - and between walks I wanted to rest and read. I wanted to read on the back porch that overlooks the garden. I wanted to read overlooking the ocean. I took books with me that have been on my pile of books I want to read. I started a diary of my dog sitting experience. After a few days I came up with the title "Diary of a MAD Dog Sitter." Mad such as "I was crazy to accept." Mad such as "I'm really getting angry here."
At this moment, I cannot find the paper I wrote it on - old school paper and ink pens. It is buried.
My pile of books to be read are unread.
