I am tired. This isn’t even a ‘hey I’ve stayed up too late tired,’ either. This is exhaustion. I came to the realization that I been running on pure enthusiasm and positive energy. That’s great and all, but it can wear a fella down.
So, to recap our story to date: our ceiling became our floor. Again. This is entering shenanigans land. I posited a theory months ago after Rae suggested that there was a karmic reason we kept having flooding issues. I mean, other than karma getting back at me for how much of a smartass I am.
There are a lot of protective properties about water. It’s a soothing element. It’s conductive. I was raised around it. Could be anything, but I do agree, in that I always feel like there’s a reason this keeps happening - especially as it always seems to precede some larger catastrophe.
The past few have taught me a great deal in anger management. I’ve also learned how to use my people skills for diffusion and problem solving. Of course, trying to get people to like you enough to their own damn jobs in a timely fashion does go faster when you don’t keep reminding them it’s their fault this problem keeps occurring in the first place.
Today’s larger catastrophe was the loss of our pet mouse, Rapid Dave. Rae got the idea for his name from a Family Guy episode. Peter is trying to purge his home of anything that is not American made, so he creates his own Speedy Gonzalez cartoons for Stewie.
When we brought Dave home, he earned his name. He did nothing slow or cautiously. For being such a small creature, he moved like an electric charge with legs. He’d run on his wheel for hours – literally five or more hours at a time. He had a little mousey igloo, and he would burrow tunnels through the bedding, building up little piles of fluff inside. I gave him hay as well, which he would weave into the fluff balls as if he were piping support beams through a house. If you came near his cage, he would always pop right out to meet you, expecting some kind of treat.
He was so damn soft, too. It seemed as if you could never feel his fur, but the way the air around your fingers was being subtly interrupted. He would wrap his tail around your finger and peep between each, barely a blur, waiting for a chance to make a run up the length of your arm.
I’m not going to write about the times in his life that would make me sad. He brought a lot of joy into my life, and if I can’t share even a sliver of that, it would be a disgrace to the memory of the time we had with him. He was a bonkers little critter, and one that loved both his mama and I greatly (a rare occurrence in this house).
I can only hope he loved the time with us as much as we did with him. Judging by how he used to bop around his cage looking for either one of us, I can sit here smiling contentedly.