Monday

So, this morning the alarm went off and scared the bejesus out of me. Normally I wake up a few minutes before it sounds and I get up without the fanfair - which is good, because waking up naturally is better and loudness at 5:15am is wrong, but its bad, because why do I need to be awake prior to 5:15am?

I get up and do my thing and come back to the room and turn on the somewhat gentle bedside light and get dressed. Fine. I go to put on my Tevas and they are not there. I think they are playing hide and seek, so I peek under the bed. No Tevas. I go to the dining room and turn on the not-at-all-gentle overhead light and search under the table for them. No Tevas!, I search the living room, no Tevas!

I decide I can't spend any more time on this and I settle for some stretched out unpadded, stretched out canvas sandals I do not love any more, I'm going to flap and slap all day!I hate these sandals!, I have fallen out of love with non-Teva sandals. I have bleak thoughts about spending the day in my unpadded, stretched out canvas flap and slap sandals. I sigh.

What did I wear Yesterday? I ask myself. I say: Sneakers. I wore my sneakers. Then I say why? I haven't taken off the Tevas since last spring, I have a semi-permanent Teva tan on my feet. I answer : I wore the sneakers to Church, they are my "good shoes" at the moment" and then I said : Why didn't I change out of my "good shoes" when I came home? How long have my Tevas been missing?! If I knew they were gone why didn't I say something?!  How long have they been gone! They could be miles away by now!

These are a lot of thoughts for 5:20am.

And then I remembered. Saturday it rained very hard. Saturday I got caught in the rain and got soaked. I got soaked and had to change clothes. My clothes  to change into are mostly upstairs.

 To the upstairs!  I say and rush upstairs

To find my Tevas! Safe and sound. I joyfully bring them downstairs and strip off the rejected sandals and push the restart button for my day.

 I free the dog from his room - or  as he prefers to call it his "jailhouse of dog misery". I refer to it as "the  air-conditioned room with his own futon and a large window and a TV". He lives better than a lot of people. He thinks he is being punished because he has been banished during the day from having the run of the house because, he always fails to mention this,  he was banished because he eating the house and my belongings, bit by bit, room by room. He's lucky I didn't decide to crate train him by force.

We have a nice walk. Later, while I am home for lunch, a neighbor comes by and rehomes my old beloved, oven. My neighbor explains that her stove died and she really needs another. I tell her I had called Habitat but they hadn't gotten back to me. I assure her it works perfectly and to take it with my blessings. A good day was had by all.