Feb 8th

 Work was hard today. Some very crunchy stuff that even when I was in the best of forms was a sweaty no pushover. These days I sometimes waver. Too much. Too hard. Too much sustained concentration. But. After some avoidance. I did it. Crunched my way through it. Let's be clear here, the task is way and above beyond even our senior dev. It is probably one of the gnarliest bits of codebase we have, requiring not only some pretty adept database work - something that most devs shy away from like a spooked horse - but also some hardcore code, and a heavy dose of product specific knowledge. All sitting in a service for the technical cherry on the cake. But services these days are ten a penny. A no brainer for anyone worth even a pinch of their technical salt. Nevertheless the whole thing is a complex piece of rules based parsing sitting in an enterprise architecture. It made our regular dev just pass at first glance. Nope.

I'm a tiny bit surprised I managed to get it done. Tired as I am. Not firing on all cylinders. As shit as I am, touch wood, the computer technical side of me is the last bit of me to suffer. I think the machine bit of my brain will perhaps always function at this point. Unless I entirely lose my marbles. I've been around the machines for too long at this point not to be part ways like them. It also leans into my suspected ADHD hyper focus.

So one of my goals for today. Do work. I got done. And better than that. Got to a finishing point with it and handed it over.

As soon as I finished work I took the dogs out. A fire lit under my ass. I'll be honest. A little of this fire was frustration with Hazel. Doing nothing. Sitting on her ass. It is unfair of me to be like that. Well. Some would say it's very much not. Well within norms. Some would even suggest kicking her ass. Her dad certainly grumbles about her inactivity. But for me. It's unfair. I make no demands of her or have any expectations. She should be free to do as she likes. I make no calls on her.

The mindset I have with her is that I will do what I'm going to do. No help. No reliance. Do the thing. If Hazel wants to tag along for some of it, that's fine. If she wants to pitch in at times a little. Also fine. But at no point do I rely on it. Or expect it. That's not me being funny about it. It's something I quickly had to learn with her - you can't rely or expect her to do anything. She doesn't do responsibility. At best she will tug along in your wake, rarely she will rise to the challenge and actually do something - clean a kitchen twice a year. Or step up and do something. But mostly. Not. And absolutely don't rely on it. Ever.

So I don't judge her or badger her to do anything. She is basically a guest. And as a guest isn't required to do anything.

Nevertheless. Hard, busy work. Stressy. Tired. Much to do. My mood is not the best or the most patient. And whilst I will absolutely not take it out on Hazel. I found myself today quietly frustrated and irritated with her inactivity, not even taking the mutts out for a walk.

So. Work done. Let's do this. Take the furry butts out for a nice walk for them. I had no intention of asking Hazel. I had my plan. Clear. No time for delays. Faffing. Fucking about. Socks on. Shoes on. Let's go. Whilst I still have the energy and haven't yet crashed. As it was as I breezed through, Hazel asked if she could come along.

Ok. But you need to be quick. I am conscious that her anchor weight of slowness and procrastination has a very real possibility of slowing me down enough that in the time spent waiting for her to stop dithering I have crashed out and lost the opportunity. I can't afford such fucking about anymore. Go now. Or get out of my way. That simple. Not mean. Just hard pragmatism of living with a hair trigger chronic illness.

She was quick - for Hazel. I had got myself ready, got the mutts ready, leashed, harnessed, geared up with lights, bags, leads, keys, everyone in the car, and the engine ticking over whilst she still fumbled with getting her ducks in a row not yet left the house. Always a problem with her. Getting her ready for her own appointments can be a big problem. It can take her 20 minutes to put her shoes on. Faffing around. In one notoriously bad moment, getting ready to go out, instead of getting ready, she makes toast, goes to the loo, has a drink, everything but getting out the fucking door. She is atrocious at prioritising and actually doing shit that needs to get done. In that instance I did comment that on needing to leave, her first move was to put fucking toast on.

Hopeless. 

Anywho.

The thought of stick and carrot had lingered in my brain overnight and during the day. It seemed that Hazel was hardcore lapsing into procrastination. A real low point of inactivity. A funk. A rut. This can be a problem when she stays with me, as the tasks she needs to do when she is at home that make her "honest" - walking the dog, having to do the washing up, or at the very least wash up the last plate left so she has something to eat off of, and a bunch of other minor living tasks, she doesn't have to do whilst staying with me. And she can bounce down hard into that complete inactive demotivated do nothing.

As tired as I am, I have no time for the luxury of sitting on my ass. It is as I have previously said, something I don't do anymore. My being ill has put paid to it. Now if I have the energy I will do a thing. The thing that largely dictates whether I do something now is not whether I am "in the mood for it" or not, but rather "do I feel less shitty enough to do it". I spend a lot of time doing nothing. Not by choice. But forced. And like many things, when you lose the choice, things take on a different perspective. To a certain extent, procrastination is the luxury of people who are not chronically ill. When you're ill, you're grateful for any snip of time where you can do something, instead of feel like shit. 

I had considered gently suggesting to her that maybe she should go home. Not kicking her out. But. Maybe she'd like to go home. For her sake. She needed to start moving.

I'd also lead by example.

I would do the things. She can sit and watch.

So we went for a walk. I didn't crash. She was happy to tag along in our wake. No move to do something herself. But willing to come along if you're going to do it.

Two of my tasks nailed for the day.

Work done. Mutts walked.

I tackled the washing up next. Did that. Cleaned some of the kitchen. Cleaned some of the bathroom. 

Go me.

All of my tasks nailed for the day and then some.

Hazel then volunteered to go out to the top of the road to get pizza. We have a nice wood fired pizza dude that sets up every Wednesday. I introduced Hazel to it last week. She's keen. And food is often her best motivator.

She had chatted to the Italians running the pizza outfit. Yes they would be there next week, but that was it. On expressing sadness they said they would be back after a break of 3 weeks.

It seemed clear to me Hazel had no plans to leave anytime soon - she was making long term pizza plans !

I decided not to ask about her going home then. Just leave her be.

I needed to rest, chill out, regain some patience if not wellness. And let my frustrations drift off into the wind.

I am fine with Hazel being Hazel. I just need to let some of my patience recharge. Hopefully, work will be less of a shitbag for a while. Albeit. Athena is still a continuing stress.

It's 4am. I still haven't crashed. I had a shitty nights sleep the previous night. And a shitty few hours in the middle of the day. But I suspect. That shitty sleep, as shitty as it was, shallow, disturbed, actually kept me from the deeper sleep that fucks me up so hard now. Perhaps after all this is a breathing issue. A deep sleep cuts my breathing off, and I wander ever closer to not waking up again, and feeling like death if I do. A shallow sleep keeps me moving and breathing. Maybe.

Regardless of what kind of sleep I get, I come out the other end tired and fuzzy.

Hazel is still up. As she usually is. We kind of live in different times zones, with an overlap in the middle. She stays up and talks to her boyfriend in the US.

The dogs are with me. Athena is sprawled on her bed at the side of my bed. Comfortable. Sleepy. Asleep. And Poppy is curled in a ball on my bed. Hogging the covers and pillows. Also asleep. There's a comfort in having them nearby even asleep. Other living things. Not alone. Choosing to spend their time with you. And Athena, a boxer, like all boxers is vocal. More like a human than a dog. The sighs. The snores. It's the shorter nose. More like a human nose. You can hear every sigh and exhale. It reminds you something is close and asleep. It is peaceful.

The greatest peace I have ever known is with Ares lying along my back - something he did every night. His big weight against you, warm, listening to him breathe. When it was cold that shared heat would keep you warm without a need for covers. I very much understand the aborigine rating of judging how cold a night is by the number of dogs you need to sleep with to maintain heat. Also like that saying there is a primal connection there. A trust. A reassurance. A comfort. A guardian at your back. A listening set of keen ears ever vigilant in the dark. It is as I have said before, one of those things that if you have never experienced it, you are missing out on. A piece of core human experience. It connects you back to your distant ancestors and a truth of one very large part of who we are as an animal and something very much more real than the bullshit world we now surround ourselves with. Something less corporate. Less fully fitted kitchen. Less air con. And more sleeping in a pile next to a fire. In nature. Listening to the sounds of the evening. Under a starlit sky. Primal. Who we were for 100,000 years. And not the who we are now for the last 5 minutes of our fucked up stuck in a box existence.

We are not creatures of fucking boxes. Be that an office. Or alone in a house.

We are creatures of the plains. Of the forests. Wanderers. Of nature. We are nature. Attuned to its rhythms.

The modern boxes, both physical and metaphysical, we put ourselves in are anathema to who we are, how we evolved. A fish attempting to climb a tree. Or perhaps a bird stuffed into an airless box with no room to fly.

Dogs. Are a connection back to our truer selves - that creature of the plains. And not of boxes. Ask a dog. They will tell you. Better to be out of the box. In the green. The trees. The rivers. The meadows. Over the next horizon. Snuffling for the next thing. The shrinks tell us clearly - that people do better when they can get a certain amount of hours in "green spaces". Better across the board. Better health. Better mood. Better everything. Well. Duh. 100,000 years of evolution makes you a certain way. Doesn't it. And dogs instinctively know this. They don't need a study to know that. A shrink. A paper. It is part of who they are. And unlike us. They are intune with who they are.

I am convinced whether you realise it or not that dogs have a piece of our soul. Bargained and bought from a time before history was a thing. And until you live it. You don't realise you are incomplete. Everyone needs a dog in their lives for a while. Just if nothing else, as the internet saying goes, for people to "touch grass". There is a reason dogs are therapy animals. It is that piecing together of someones soul. Even if for just a short while. And it has the capability to light people up. Therapeutic we call it. Observe it to be. It is that primal song. A bit that is missing from us. And even though we cannot express it, re-uniting with it, makes us whole again. Even if its just for 5 minutes.