08 November 2007

Premature Spring

I have a feeling of Spring in me. The change of light and season always brings it on, but having strangers fling about my deep junk drawer receipts and mini-light parts has really been a catalyst for change.

I have been tossing. Six cubic feet of clothes cycled though Tuesday night’s clothing exchange party, and I only picked out 5 “new” items for myself. Our laundry nook got a makeover. Three kitchen drawers are now liberated of extra ice cream scoops and specialty spatulas, and even better, they open and close without squeezing in a hand to free the item that is stuck on the underside of the counter. And I have plans for practically every secret storage spot in our house. The guys in masks uncovered our crap, littered it around for us to detest. They didn’t take much, but now I don’t want the stuff we have. I don’t mean I want to replace it. I just don’t want that much stuff anymore.

We did add a few things, though. The dead bolts we should have had long ago. And the dog. People keep asking if we rescued Rex (a.k.a Ruffles per Oakland Animal Services). This dog? Definitely not. He wasn’t on his way to death. Within five minutes of starting the adoption paperwork two other family units came to invite him home- and left in tears when they discovered they were too late. I nearly changed my mind when the first woman literally burst into sobs, saying, “Well, at least we know he’s going to a good home.” But I too had been awake all night fitting him into the fabric of our life. He was just our dog. It was clear. And we were right. He is one of us, even when he chews little bits of the carpet, lunges for a poopy diaper, or does some other disagreeable thing that makes us have a better idea of why someone would leave him at the night drop. He is one of us in all our broken, trial and error ways. We’re learning together how to sit and stay and shake and live with trust of the future. And even when we aren’t making philosophical leaps, Rex is just one more inspiration to clean up (or else he’ll eat it).

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