Cheap Thrills

Sorry to disappoint- this post will not be about any subject that is racy, tawdry, or even exciting. It is a post about the exact opposite, actually- all of the things that, in my increasingly old age, provide me with more pleasure or satisfaction than they should. Whether it is that first sip of coffee in the morning, free accordion folders at work, or walking into my house after a long day and being thrilled that my dog didn't poop somewhere, I am finding that it doesn't take much to excite me.

Let's tackle the coffee first. I was never a coffee drinker before I had kids. There's just something about being up 75 times a night with a nursing baby that makes crack in a cup that much more appealing. Now that I am back to working full time, I need two cups of coffee throughout my morning in order to function properly. My morning routine consists of falling out of bed, showering, getting Tenley up and making her waffles, cramming some cereal and the all-important fudgeround down my throat, dressing Luke, and getting out of the house. Did you notice that coffee does not fall anywhere into that routine? This is because coffee is meant to be ENJOYED and scalding my throat trying to gulp it down in the 7 minutes and 45 seconds that I give myself for breakfast does not scream "happy morning" to me. So, I arrive at work in a zombie-like state, turn on my computer, and grab my coffee cup to trudge to the Keurig in our office kitchen. Just hearing the machine start to brew opens my eyeballs a bit wider and, once the percolation starts, it activates whatever part of my brain that allows me to think straight. I think it's Pavlovian. Once the brew is complete, I splash some creamer in it and take it back to my desk so that I can check email and have that first sip. And that first sip is always SO GOOD. And way more exciting than it should be. By the time I'm on my second cup my body is warm, I'm functioning at a high level, and I even feel for brief moments that I could flip cars if I needed to. So thank you, coffee, for being the kick in the rear I need each morning so that I don't sleep at my desk and ultimately get fired.

The next item on my excitable list: free stuff. Prime example: I was sitting in my office today and Tracie, our Guidance secretary, came by my office and said that the media center specialist had wheeled boxes of accordion file folders down to the office and that they were free for us to pick through before he took them to another office. I ROCKETED out of my chair to get first dibs. I have been meaning to buy accordion folders to sort the kids' various school papers and old bills. Those things are expensive and now I can get them for free? Heck, yes- sign me up! I think everyone else thought I was crazy and I'm pretty sure that I could have had the whole cart if I wanted them, but I didn't want to be greedy. I have some dignity, for crying out loud. It's not often that these opportunities arise but, when they do, they are tops on my list of cheap thrills.

This brings me to the dog. When I last wrote about my dogs, Zoey was still a young, spry bulldozer of a terrier. Since the loss of my dear Rudy (RIP), she has developed "the diabetes" and requires two shots of insulin a day. Not just one, but TWO SHOTS A DAY. As you can imagine, giving her these shots is not the highlight of my day. I dread it. I've been doing it now for a year and a half, and there is no end in sight. Without the shots, Zoey shakes and pees all over the place. But, when she has the shots and she is regulated, it is like she has been injected with water from the fountain of youth. I swear that these shots are not only keeping her alive, but magically extending her life and she will outlive me. Maybe I should start injecting myself with it as well. Anyway, even though she is regulated, it does not stop her from having random accidents in the house if I'm gone for too long. And, of course, it's not just accidents of the "number 1" variety, but there's often some "number 2" accidents as well. This presents several issues. First, dog poop closed up in a house with the heat on all day is not a good smell. In fact, it's pretty disgusting. Second, my daughter has a crazy gag reflex when it comes to poop. She is 7 and still has to have me take care of her back end after having a bowel movement because, if she sees the product of said movement, she gags and almost vomits. I'm not kidding. I had to pick her up from school once because she went "number 2," forgot and looked at it, and puked on the restroom floor. I was so concerned when the school nurse called and said that she had been sick until she told me that, when asked, Tenley said that she had "seen something yucky" and my whole attitude changed. I just said, "Oh yeah, she probably saw her poop. She's fine." She was sent home anyway. Because of this extreme aversion to all things poop, Tenley is extremely sensitive to any surprises that we might come home to compliments of the dog. We walked in the house the other day and, as soon as I walked in the door, I could smell the telltale signs of dog doo. I immediately told Tenley to stay in the kitchen until I could get rid of it, and when I came back in the kitchen she was gagging with Luke's stocking hat pulled to her chin trying to walk to her room without seeing the poop. This resulted in her walking into a wall because she couldn't see anything. So, as you can surmise, coming home after a long day and finding no dog poop to take care of gives me more thrills than riding the Tower of Terror.

Some other items on my cheap thrills list: my head hitting the pillow at night, McDonald's Diet Coke, finding a new show on my DVR that I actually have time to watch, and Edwardo's pizza. Also a clean kitchen. I realize that this post shows my age and that I am probably the least exciting person on the planet. The thing is, I'm OK with that. I love my life and the people that are in it. I may not be a movie star or a high powered CEO, but I am also fortunate enough to not have to worry about a lot of things that others do, that negative excitement that nobody wants. I'm a pretty lucky gal, and if these are the types of thrills that make me happy then I think I'm doing alright.