My three day weekend has left me feeling slightly ill and vaguely discontented. This satiety has an unpleasant aftertaste of guilt. I should have done something more productive, I think, something that got me out of the house more. I ought to have used my time, I think, not squandered it. And yet I'm rested, which is a reasonable goal, and I went out in the evenings to parties, which means I wasn't a total mushroom, and I did lots of chores so I have something to show for my time off. I didn't have any homework. I don't have anything to feel guilty about.
A sure sign that I've been under pressure too long. I can no longer enjoy time off because I'm forgetting how to relax. I'm not a natural Type A. I have to force myself into high gear to deal with constant stress, and the strain of this perverse behavior affects me in unexpected ways. Okay, I admit watching the Emergency Vets marathon was a trifle self-indulgent, but it was great! I finally got to see every single episode. I love Animal Planet.
Among those chores mentioned I'm most pleased that we got Dixie bathed. She seems happy about it, too. She was playful and chased her new rawhide treat which she hasn't done in ages. She's been off her food since we upped the dosage on her medication, so we've begun tempting her with canned dogfood and she's snarfing it right up. These changes are so weird. She suddenly refused to eat either cheese or dog biscuits which she's always loved. Now we have to give her the pills in the wet food which is terribly messy. John made her a pallet for her shelter so she has a place to sleep off the ground. She's ready for the winter. I hope we are.
There was a fairly strong earthquake Sunday morning about 2am. John and I were in the tv room watching the end of a movie when I felt the rocking chair start rocking on its own. "The house is moving," I said with a touch of panic. John didn't feel it until a few seconds later. Things rattled a bit, but nothing fell over. It brought back memories of Loma Prieta, the big and fairly destructive earthquake of 1989. This one was, in fact, a pretty strong one but centered 50 miles north of us and so we just felt the long, rolling motion instead of the sharp side to side. Jessie, I hope you guys felt this one!
I say that because Saturday at Jessie's charming housecooling party she was complaining that they'd been here three years and never once felt an earthquake, and now they were moving back to Boston without this quintessential California experience so they were bummed. I thought this was a bit odd but then I was actually in the Loma Prieta quake and had to walk home five miles after the fright of my life through a blacked out San Francisco with sirens wailing and shattered glass everywhere. It was not something to be desired. A little quake would only seem like a big truck going by. This one, though, the 5.0 [actually 5.2] in Yountville, would have been just the ticket for anyone wanting to experience the profound shock of realizing the earth isn't, in fact, static.
Despite sleeping in until 10 this morning I think I'm ready for an early bed. I'm taking my copy of Freya Stark's biography with me so I may not fall asleep right away. She's a fascinating person. I would never have been brave enough to go to Lebanon and other parts of the Middle East by myself to perfect my Arabic and see the great historical sites and survey mountains. Heck, I rarely spend an hour by myself these days. But I used to take risks, you know. I went to Australia for nine weeks by myself, and lived in England for two months, and of course I moved to San Francisco without knowing a soul. I've lost my adventurous ways, I suppose, having traded them for a husband, a job, a social life, and several pets. The riskiest thing I do any more is spill my life on the Internet where anyone can read and critique it.
At least I'm emulating the great lady adventurers by keeping a diary.
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