The Bear took a job a year ago working at the school as a custodian. He’s retired, and he was bored, and I was one episode of MASH away from shooting the TV, so this was a very good decision. (I hate Hawkeye. I know that’s not a popular opinion, that this is supposedly an amazingly wonderful classic TV show. Maybe the first hundred times, that would be true. It loses its charm quickly after endless repetition.)

He was off for three months because of the virus. Andy Griffith took the place of MASH. I would like to punch Opie in the face and tell Aunt Bea to stop whining. I think she had an affair with Barney and give birth to Hawkeye.

So now he’s back to work and the TV is mercifully silent. He’s back to work from 6 am till 4 pm. SIX. FREAKIN. A. M.

We are not morning people. He worked second shift for years, and then third shift for seven more before retiring. Our normal hour to arise from the depths of sleep is around 11 am, and we would go to bed about 3 am.

He gets up at 4 now. FOUR A M. That should be illegal. In fact, I think it’s protest worthy. I am offended by four a.m.

He goes to bed at 8. It’s still light outside. I follow a few hours later, usually around midnight. Maverick wakes me up at 8ish. That is not a reasonable hour to be awake.

One would think that this early rising nonsense would mean that I accomplish a great deal more each day. One would be wrong. We have coffee on the patio, Maverick and I. Then we go to the park and walk, because my little weirdo won’t poop at home. If it’s not too hot we go a mile, lately it’s been half that. When we get home, we go back to the patio – I read and write in our journals (yes, Maverick has a journal, put your judgey eyes back in your judgey heads) , he chases butterflies – until lunch.

Most of my day is spent finding ways to amuse Maverick. This is a full time job. My college decided to change the curriculum, make a 16 week course into 2, eight week course, and change the book, all in the midst of switch to everything online, and get it done by August 24th. Getting a print version of this new book was so ridiculously difficult that I ended up having it printed myself because I don’t do well with e-texts. I should be working on this but …………see above sentence about amusing Maverick.

I learned today, and this has nothing to do with getting up early except it probably wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been at the park at 9 am. (A flippin M), that I am way too concerned about what other people think. A total stranger started off by telling me Maverick needed a drink. I told her I had water for him in the car, and that he wasn’t going to drink it anyway. She then told me I should take him into the bathroom because it was cool in there. I said, no, he won’t go in there. She opened the door, he ran to my side. “Oh, are you breeding him?” she asked. I looked quizzical. “I noticed he’s not neutered.” At this point, I should have said, “why are you looking at my dog’s ass?” but I chose to take it as a teachable moment.

Raise your hand if you hate the term “teachable moment.” ~~Waves hand wildly~~

I explained that Golden Retrievers have a greatly increased chance of getting cancer if neutered early. At this point, Maverick was sniffing her leg and she announced that he was obviously a lover. I said that he likes women but is fussy about men.

It was already weird. It got weirder when she then announced, “well, it’s fine as long as he doesn’t vote for Trump!”

Okay, lady, he’s a dog and he doesn’t vote. But aside from that, I’m furious with myself because I didn’t say, “he doesn’t vote but I do and it’s none of your damned business who either of us supports.” I just stood there in astonishment and listened while she went into a diatribe about the President. (She’s ashamed of him. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care.) I said, when she paused to breathe, “well, you have a nice day,” and took off.

I basically let myself be bullied by a stranger. It won’t happen again.