Of Birds, Bees, and Dr. Pepper

An extraordinarily pleasant day. In the early morning, my wife and I made love and held each other as I fell into a deep and satisfying sleep, devoid of any nightmares and free of the disturbed, anxious unease that so often keeps me awake and staring at the walls and ceiling, thoughts racing. A peaceful sleep is a noteworthy phenomenon, and should not be taken for granted.

Just before sunrise, the need to pee compelled me to wake, shake off the cat and dog who never miss a chance to pin Nancy and I to the bed, and stumble into the bathroom. The window was open, and the birds were making their typical morning din, which is considerable. No discernible sun or lightening sky, but those birds always know when to make a racket, with their little birdy watches they know that the sun will soon be up. Those birds, they're wise...they know things.

Time for my typical morning panic attack, but today I was spared. Why? If I only knew. A few minutes later and again, sound sleep next to the woman I love. What a day! Another two hours of sleep, then up. Coffee. Took Annie for a walk. Later, I planted the vegetable garden in our tiny little plot; four tomato plants, one pepper plant, rosemary, and sage. While mulching (yes, I even mulched!), a little bastard bee stung my right hand. Quite a string of obscenities spewed forth from my gob, accompanied by a thick Boston accent (it gets thicker when in distress). Oh, no fahkin' way, ah fahk, ah fahk meeeee! 

In the afternoon, my father and I talked leisurely and drank coffee, with Annie in my lap and Impy warming herself in a patch of sun streaking through the kitchen door window. She sat there like a furry little Buddha, content and enlightened. Somewhere along away, I had a waffle. A waffle was involved.

It is early in the evening now, and Nancy and I are watching a documentary together. A few moments ago I said something and she laughed. How I love it when she laughs. Where did I find this woman? Well, I know where I found her, and she found me, but what archery! She has her own demons, and it pains me when she is fogged in by depression. She has more moxie than I, and puts up a better fight against it. I love it when she laughs and is happy, and when she gives me a squinty look after I say something stupid (happens a lot). Or when she gets pissed off at the television and yells at it (the new Dr. Pepper commercial really pisses her off, and I don't blame her).

You don't take days like this for granted. There was a span of several days last week when I woke up to a ferocious little mind-weasel gnawing at me; panic attacks and anxiety from the get-go. It sucks. The Blue Devil of self-doubt and loathing, suicidal thoughts, and numbing depression. And when you throw in a couple of epileptic seizures, you have a real shit stew. Did I mention guilt? Oh, yeah.

So when days like this come up, I treasure them.