“Well? What do you think? I slept well… do you think they want to work this morning?” I ask my dog, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I flex my ankles, do some nice kicks in the air. They didn’t work yesterday so I figure it’s best to check.
Up I go, and back to sit.
Hum.
“Guess not.”
Dog has nothing to say.
What is there to say? Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. Personally, I think they just aren’t morning-kind-of-legs.
I tug Carmen out of the closet. Carmen San Dieago is my exceptional wheelchair. I flip myself into the most comfortable seat in the world and start backing up, revving my engine if you will, to launch myself over the tiny rim of the carpet.
Dog isn’t thrilled with Carmen. Carmen is kind of new. Like six months new. It took about that long for him to like the old girlfriend I had too. Sharing my affection isn’t his strong point and Carmen gets a lot of praise these days. Dog does have a strong aversion to bicycles, motorcycles, skateboards… we’re working on this new relationship. This morning we’re working on it with him barking and retreating as I maneuver down the hall. He’d be such a good service dog.
By mid day, I’m really losing the “steps” competition I’m in with my friend. She’s smoking me. I got a whooping 710 steps for the half hour my legs “woke up” enough to walk around my classroom. I get to my desk, prop my feet up on the extra chair, suck away at a nice not-an-ounce-of-decaf iced-coffee. Some people drink coffee to wake up in the morning. I drink coffee as a way to get hyper, happy, or try to wake my body up. Yeah. Body. I slide the stack of 12 ipads under my chin to prop my head up, (Brilliant idea #1 today) and start my zoom meeting.
By the end of it, I’m up again, like a rechargeable battery. I won’t be running a marathon anytime today, but I’ll make it through.