Leap Year Expectations

The dog woke me at two this morning, and I lay in the dark for half an hour before giving up and turning the tv on to bore myself back to sleep. My head hurt too much to play a game on the phone, and my brain wasn’t working enough to get out my laptop and write. Even now it’s a struggle to remember what I was going to write about from the beginning of one sentence to the next. I need to keep my expectations low otherwise I’ll get too frustrated to be of any good to anyone today.

As I lay in the dark four hours ago, I couldn’t help notice how quickly the dog settled back down, particularly compared to myself. My wife beside me hardly stirred, told the dog to go back to her bed, and resumed her sonorous sleep as if nothing had happened.

Jealousy is an ugly thing, especially in the predawn hours.

It took me about an hour to drift back into a light slumber until I woke for good at five, taking the dog and the laptop downstairs with me. I half expected the dog to want to go back up after she’d eaten and been outside, but she climbed into her favorite chair and went back to sleep. Even after I bundled up so I could go back out and sit on the porch to watch the snow fall she remained in her chair; normally she’s at the door, eager to get out as soon as anyone even moves in the general direction of the door. But, she’s getting old and doesn’t like the cold. I don’t think she liked getting snowed on while doing her business, gave it serious pause for thought before leaving the sheltered porch for the yard.

As I struggled into my thermal over-pants and fleecy jacket, I kept tipping over and tripping on my own feet until I just sat down before I did myself serious damage. As it is, I think I hurt my right foot and my left hip feels like I’ve walked ten miles. But I really wanted to sit out on my dark porch and watch the snow fall in the aura of light cast off by the street lamp on the corner. I find it meditative, especially when I’m still waking up and the sun hasn’t yet risen.

But not for me today. By the time I got myself situated and prepared for the cold, it had stopped snowing. Which brings me back to keeping my expectations for today low. Very low indeed. Which is funny, because as I lay between sleep and slumber a few hours ago, I remembered that today is February 29^th, a theoretical free day that comes once every four years. A day out of time, it seemed. Full of a different kind of potential than other days I’ve lain in bed, contemplating what lay before me.

So far, it’s just like other days. I got out of bed because my pain wouldn’t let me stay in one position more than a couple of minutes. I’ve fed the dog and taken her out to the yard. I’ve wandered into the kitchen twice and back upstairs once, only to find I’d forgotten what I’d been after. I’ve taken my thyroid meds and probiotic, waited the requisite hour, and taken my first round of antibiotics. I went to make myself a cup of tea, plugged the kettle in and got so caught up in wondering what kind of tea I wanted that I neglected to turn it on. I was back in the living room before I realized that I’d walked past the tea cupboard without making a selection and getting the cup set up, which led to the realization that the water was going to stay cold until Lyme brain got it together and turned the kettle on. So I turned the kettle on, came back in here to write while it boils, and now that it’s done I remembered I still haven’t chosen a tea.

Definitely just like all the other days.