It’s 3am. I must be ________.

Oh good gravy! Beagles are talkative, whiny, pushy, clingy, yet oddly independent creatures. Mary, our beige beauty of the beagle species, has had me up for the last 20 minutes reciting some sort of ancient “Let me under the covers, no—not those covers, scoot over, I’m sleepy” chant…TWENTY MINUTES!

When I was single, and pet-less, if I had woken up at 3am I would probably either go start a pot of coffee & decide if I wanted to actually START my day, or just stay up a bit & then gradually fall back asleep on the couch or something.

But now? No such luxury can be afforded, I’m afraid. Too many people who would be “concerned” something was horribly “wrong,” or at least askew, if they found mother-dear/wifey-poo, up and wandering the humble abode…even daring to post anything online with the dreaded Time-Stamp (gasp!) might alert the virtual neighbors to my indegestion/puppy induced maladies.

But these things are nothing new (and definitely not revolutionary) to someone like me. Or anyone who a) has had a small child/animal/thing they are required to keep alive at all hours of the day or night b) work a position that requires them to answer a call, or duty, regardless of the time c) is human and may need to answer the call of nature…(puns all around and totally intended).

This is a concept that never bothered me, personally, until it was pointed out to me by others that: There Must Be Something Wrong Because This Behavior Is Not…wait for it…Y*O*U.

Ahhh. Did you feel that? The collective sigh (or groan) of realization? The dawning for some, and the giant question marks appearing over the heads of others? THAT was my giant Lightbulb 💡 moment. The moment it dawned on me years ago that my life was no longer just “my life.” There would never be a “just me being me” moment again.

Cohabitation, procreation, responsibilities, commitments—these all change a person. There is no One Way to accomplish any of these things, regardless of what the experts, magazines, or water cooler coffee crowd believes. And the kicker? Y*O*U morph back & forth right alongside all these folks, but somehow they don’t see it. Or perhaps they just prefer Not to See it.

Isn’t it easier to just see what we want to see, hear what we want, selectively believe that which we prefer to be true?

I am not an unhappy individual, by any means, and yet currently there are those that offer me pity in the guise of understanding, or Help masquerading as removal of self. When, honestly, it would be lovely if someone else could let the dog in, put the cat out, change Maggie’s wet sheets, start the pot of coffee, and for goodness sake—keep their opinions of how others choose to live their small, fleeting moments to themselves.

Having said all this, I can now officially put the kettle on because enough time has passed between my thyroid medication and when I’m allowed creamer in my beverage.

Ain’t life grand? Cheers! And good morning ☀️😃

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