We have a nightly routine around here. The dogs get dinner a couple hours later than they used to (now timed based on Murray's digestive patterns) and then they get kicked outside to burn off energy and bark down the neighborhood. At some point between 8 and 11, I decide I'm done listening to them destroy the peace outside, and I start bringing in the troublemakers. If Murray fails to get himself onto the deck, I have to convince the man that the barking has hit critical mass, and enlist his help bringing in the straggler(s). (Tonight it was difficult, because we either had a return of the Bunnies Under the Deck, or of the Evil Rodents, and Murray was all kinds of excited about that.) Murray gets a minimal amount of inside wheel time, and then he gets tucked into his cage at for bed. He used to complain about it, like any child might, but lately he has discovered he really likes it when the man wraps his security blanket around him, even covering his head. He spends the rest of the night wrapped up, and often stays tucked in all the way until morning. He seems to like the routine.
When I was a very little girl, when we lived in Germany, my mother used to tuck me in every night always with the same words, and I absolutely refused to settle in until I heard them. "Good night, sleep tight, sweet dreams, gute Nacht, bis Morgen." Every once in a while, when one of us is visiting the other, that phrase still gets trotted out. Lots of children have these routines, and I suspect I am not the only one to make it well into adulthood still enjoying it immensely when reminded of certain childish habits. But I am beyond amused to realize just how much dogs like bedtime ceremonies too.
I packed up more boxes today. My best guess is that I have exactly one week to completely de-clutter my house, before I am no longer allowed to lift anything heavier than my smallest cat. I want the house as clean as I can get it, and as low maintenance as it can be for those first several weeks after surgery. Right now, it's all about the calculus of what I will use between now and when we move. Books I won't read, boxed up. Flower vases? Probably not needed, boxed up. Wine glasses, pint glasses? There will most assuredly be one or more big party before we leave here forever. Left in place. I'm still at the point where completing three boxes in a day feels like progress, but I know that when the move is less than a month out, that will equate to a wasted day. I'm dreading the day when the art starts coming off the walls. That day always brings an outsized sense of loss, making it feel like I've already lost my sense of security and comfort in my own home. I leave the art and mirrors up as long as I can get away with it. It's my only way to maintain that tucked in feeling.
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