Juggling

Every morning, after I make the bed and invite the dog up on it, where he sleeps the entire day, I throw a toy or ball or something on the bed next to him. I don’t know why because he knows where his toys are and he is totally capable of getting them himself. Besides, as already mentioned, he spends the entire day sleeping on the bed and not paying much attention to any of the toys which are or are not there. The cat usually joins him, and she’s probably better company than the inanimate objects anyway.

Yesterday morning, when I threw not one or two but three toys up on the bed, I asked Dino if he thought I should juggle some balls for him. He answered that no he was okay and I was just weird.

I always wished I could juggle. It would be so cool.

Unfortunately, I am juggling and it’s really not so cool. The day job (with the switch to a new electronic medical record), my writing (and the novel coming out sometime in the spring), my upcoming trip to Africa (which is good stress, but stress nonetheless), and the major stressor which I am sworn to not share on social media. It’s all a lot to juggle and I am failing miserably at it. I’m dropping everything and it’s rolling under the bed to be consumed by dust bunnies. Not a pretty picture.

What to do? Learn to juggle? Let the dust bunnies have their way? Get a bigger purse so I can stuff everything into it and carry it around all day?  (Oh, I guess I’m already doing that.)

I don’t have a bright answer. If it were possible, I would carry around one thing at a time and leave the rest of them under the bed or even on the bed with Dino. But I think that being a responsible adult means you can’t leave your problems with your dog each morning. I think being an adult means you have to deal with the stress – whether bad stress or good.

I’ll keep on doing it, juggling things, I guess, coming home to this bed and this dog and that stupid cat each night. And knowing that God will catch the balls that I drop.