Hurkle Durkle or Bust

It was a week last week.  I guess it was to be expected, as I was off work for a month and also had a three week break from my extracurriculars.  Just long enough to develop new daily routines and to start overestimating what I can actually accomplish in a day.  

The other mitigating factor was how much additional time is added to daily routines, when there is a puppy afoot.  All the extra laundry, spot cleaning of the floor, having to bring the A- Game for pick-up and monitoring.  It can be exhausting.

Optimistic me pictured my return to daily life would go something like this:

• Wake-up and complete a quick 10 minute yoga routine. 
• Potty the puppy and return her to the crate.
• Complete a 20- 30 minute work out and 15-20 minutes of meditation.
• Potty the puppy again along with the rest of the furry herd.
• Get dressed, feed us all, grab my lunch prepared the night before, and skip off to work with a little tra la la in my step.

What actually happened was more along the lines of this:

• Wake-up, start yoga, make haste to get down the stairs to toilet the puppy.
• Put puppy back in the crate and listen to her screaming and crying while I completed the yoga routine and a 20 minute workout.
• Skip the mediation… who has the time… not me!
• Potty the puppy and other dogs.
• Look at the clock and swear.
• Try to dress, with the puppy trying to help by running away with my socks, under garments and/or trying to hold onto my pants and/or shirt while I’m trying to insert limbs into the holes.
• Rush downstairs and quickly feed the dogs.  
• Hum and ha for a second wondering if I had enough time to make myself something.
• Head to work muttering under my breath about “jack asses” and “dawdlers”. 
  
  

  

  Cranky Pants Face

I did manage to sneak in a 20-minute mediation before my most problematic meeting.  It isn’t problematic because of the content, or people, it’s problematic as it is the one meeting that consistently brings on my post concussion symptoms.  I had my fingers crossed that I was over the hump, as I only had two days with symptoms when I was off and the symptoms were short lived.  

Well even the power of mediation couldn’t help.  By 20 minutes in I started to feel the vice tightening around my head.  By the 30 minute mark I was riding the Tower of Terror… it feels like the floor drops out and I am falling, only to be caught and shot back up and then free falling again.  Add to that feeling an intense headache and a strong desire to flee.  Let the fun times roll!!!!  

I haven’t been able to figure out what it is about this meeting that causes such a strong reaction.  What my Monday experiment has proved to me, the symptoms are  not related to feeling rushed or stressed.  I was the most Zen I have been in months walking into that meeting. 

My evening routine went pretty much like my morning.  It was rush, rush, rush to get the essentials done so that I could make it to training.   Hazel was just a tad too excited when we got to lessons and she pulled on the leash.  Hard enough for me to slide down to the ground.  It’s a good thing that I have a well padded tush!  We did have a short discussion on how much she SUCKS as we walked to the door. 

Tuesday and Wednesday went about the same.  Too much to do, not enough time.  By Wednesday evening I was all sorts of cranky.  All I wanted was bed and another week off.  The dogs’ Max Cranky meters must all have been broken, as it felt like they were doing everything they could to push me over the edge.  I would love to say that my thirty odd days of mediation helped me calmly and rationally support the dogs in meeting the expectations I had for them… but no… I went full Rumplestiltskin on them.  There was a rant of epic portions, listing their litany of poor choices and banishing all to crates for the night.

By Thursday/Friday I had abandoned my morning workout goals, choosing instead to have an extra 30- 40 minutes of sleep.  So when Friday came and I learned about hurkle durkle I was ready to embrace the concept with gusto.

“Hurkle Durkle” is a 200 year old Scottish word meaning “to lounge in bed long after it is time to get up”.  I was ready to hurkle durkle to the max.  Seize the Durkle day I say!!!

Ferg knows how to Hurkle Durkle… It’s kinda funny as one of his nicknames is Furkle Turkle

Well I forgot about one thing.  It is impossible to Hurkle Durkle when there is a puppy in the house.  I woke-up Saturday morning a the crack of dawn.  I stretched and was basking in the luxury of knowing I didn’t need to, nor was I going to get up right away.  This fuzzy warm blanket moment lasted all of 45 seconds.  Brie must have sensed I was up and she started crying.  In the effort to save myself from having to do more laundry I heaved myself out of bed and headed downstairs.  Sadly the herd followed and my day commenced.

I was determined though,  and on the fly I switched my plans from hurkle durkling to just durkling.  To durkle is to lounge on the couch, instead of bed, and watch  Netflix, TV or read a book.  I am proud to say that with a few minor interruptions I managed to spend a vast majority of the morning in contented durkling, with and without furry companions joining me.  

It wasn’t until last night that I realized, as much as hurkle durkling feels extravagant and luxurious there is a down side… today has been a mad rush to get everything that needs to be done, done so that I can be ready to tackle next week.

SIGH!!!!  

Ohh well it was worth a try.