My ‘Doghouse’ Office
By Joe Rector
joerector@comcast.net
Did I mention that I’ve moved my office to the back enclosed porch? I enjoy this location because of its three-windowed wall. I also like having my bathroom in the same location. It’s true that this area is also the place where we store dog food and treats for Sadie and Harvey. On another wall is a rack of shelves that holds bigger cooking utensils and extraneous items and a refrigerator for drinks.
This is a good place to be right now because I’m “in the doghouse,” according to my dear wife. All of last week, she was laid low with a virus that’s running rampant in the area. She wheezed and sneezed and hacked and yacked as the illness moved into her upper respiratory system. She was a sick puppy, but she held out until the end of the week before going to the doctor. Thankfully, she is recovering well with only an occasional cough.
As could be predicted, that virus hit me on Sunday afternoon. Amy knew everything that I would experience over the next few days. On Tuesday, I felt better, or so I thought. At any rate, I took advantage of my rebounding to blow and mow leaves. I began the task after she’d left home for an appointment. Upon her return, she stopped her car in the middle of the street and stared at me as I raised a dust storm filled with mulched leaves and dirt.
I could tell when I walked into the house that I was in trouble. She didn’t utter a syllable. I began to plead my case, but just like most other incidents, Amy remained silent. Finally, she spoke. Her anger was that I wasn’t taking care of myself; I wasn’t using good judgment. I confessed that I don’t know how to take care of myself when I’m sick. I said that things had to be done whether or not I was sick. The leaves needed to be blown from the yard, and other chores needed to be completed.
All my adult life, I’ve been able to work through most illnesses. I’ve even swung an axe and mattock and dug up tree stumps while dealing with serious back issues. A cough never kept me from getting the leaves up or mowing the yard. However, I suppose piling more years on impedes my ability to recover from an illness and complete chores.
I enjoy my time out here on the porch. The dogs lie on a big rug and snooze while I work on the computer. No heat vent is out here, so I’ll have to run a small heater before long. Little by little, Amy has given me a break. I know she’s right, as is the case most of the time. I’ve been punished enough by not being able to attend several activities. I missed choir practice, one of my favorite things, because I didn’t want to expose other members to this crud that I have.
I’m an old man, but I sometimes still act like a teenager. I make poor decisions and do unhealthy things while I’m sick. Those acts land me in trouble. I’m glad that being in the doghouse is a bit easier to take in my new location. I’ll close now because the dogs and I need to stretch our legs.
