Sitting on my couch, pondering what to do when my calendar is blank, I look down at my dog sleeping in the morning sun.
Over 60, fortunately retired, and housebound by coronavirus, I get it. I have become my dog.
Uncurl from bed, have breakfast. Go for a walk. Come home and find a comfortable place to sit. Read for a while. Grow restless, circle through the halls, stop for a drink of water, shift to a different chair. Seek out a family member for a hug.
At last it’s time for lunch. So good! Then, settle in, check news and emails. Soon it’s time for another walk. Greet the neighbor (someone else is out for a walk!), sniff the breeze, isn’t life glorious?
Back home. Take a nap. Wake up lazy. When’s dinner? Not quite. Be patient, have a drink. Finally, it’s time. Prepare another meal. Relish it.
Ahhh, after-dinner contentment. Sprawl on the couch. Getting tired, time for bed.
Our dogs live happily for years on this timetable. May those of us hunkering down who don’t have kids at home or mounting piles of bills adapt to our new rhythms.
May we do so with the same grace, love for our family, and affection for our neighbors as our dogs.
Stephen Trimble, Torrey