Gifts

My bed is covered with books. Okay, the whole bed isn't covered, just the side I don't sleep on. Books, magazines and DVDs and all the necessities for when I take a day off, put up my feet and forget about work and responsibilities and anything outside these walls. It's a little mini vacation. The books and magazines and DVDs and computer and camera and phone and paper journal and pen still keep me company most nights, disappearing for the occasional guest and reappearing almost as soon as they are gone. It's one of the perks of being single.

This weekend just past I had Pastor and we had a good time. He was a nuisance now and again but mostly he is a loving and sometimes demanding companion that pushes me out of my comfort zone and into the world to take care of his needs first. It means stumbling bleary-eyed down the stairs and waiting in the frigid breeze while he does his business in the front yard and enduring his weight when he decides to sit down next to me--or more often on top of me. He's a big dog and I usually end the time with him covered in hair. Not mine, of course, since that usually decorates the carpet and hair brush in the bathroom, and occasionally my pillow and blanket, but his hair. I get furred. It's a lot better than getting skunked.

The landlady got skunked second hand when her daughter's dogs were sprayed twice over the holidays. I got a strong whiff of it when I went downstairs Friday night to feed Pastor his dinner and it wasn't pleasant. I'm used to the fading scent of eau de skunk on the road and not up close and in my face. Breathing through the mouth is crucial to keeping the stink to a minimum and getting in and out as quickly as possible. Since it was freezing Friday night I couldn't leave the landlady's windows open, but I made sure I got out of there and into the fresh cold air as soon as I finished feeding Pastor. I can't imagine how it must be at her daughter's house since the dogs were still there and still covered in a double dose of eau de skunk. They may have to change the dogs' names to Pepe.

Beanie's dog Gander got skunked again a couple months ago and from all reports still smells like eau de skunk. I love dogs, but I don't think I want to have one of my own. I can borrow the landlady's dog when I want a companion for walks and I love taking care of him for a few days every once in a while, but I don't think we'll be doing any nature walks where there are skunks. I prefer my own home brewed scents of a more benign nature and gifts that don't keep on giving and are nearly impossible to get rid of.

In the meantime, I'm waiting for one more package to finish out a gift box for a special friend. Except for one or two items, it's a silly kind of gift that I hope they will appreciate. I started buying the items back in March. I hope he doesn't mind too much since he's not really fond of gifts and the last one was a huge disappointment for everyone involved. I hate to let a good gift go to waste and no one else would appreciate it, so I'll take a deep breath and plunge into the deep end. It's a curse having the holiday spirit when you have it like I do--all year long.

That is all. Disperse.