The pug grows on me. It's nice coming home to my new friend who excitedly awaits me after an exhausted day at work. We both enjoy the early morning and evening walks. She's a great distraction from the turmoil of my life.
Gypsie cuddles up next to me on the couch as I am working on my business plan. It doesn't take long to find the right niche market and identify strategies to grow a customer base. I've been in the game long enough to know what the needs and opportunities in my industry are. I haven't felt this confident in I can't even remember how long. The only problem is that I'm being distracted by the temptation of the internet, ever so often looking up all things baby: Pregnancy guides, baby shops, medical and lifestyle advice. Luckily, I love the work I'm doing and so I don't mind the long nights. A few more weeks and I'm confident I'll be ready. I'm not quitting just yet, to ensure I qualify for paid parental leave. With holiday entitlements and time in lieu, I should be able to stop working pretty soon though.
Four hours in front of the notebook rush by and I only notice the time when Gypsie gets restless. It's time for a last quick round with her before heading to bed. Like most nights, we walk the ten minutes through the empty roads towards the water. I read on a website for dog friendly walks in the area that a dedicated section of the beach is accessible for dogs at certain times. There was no information on this on the council's website though. I should have paid more attention to the signs all the times I have been to the beach. Deciding to walk along the promenade to check out the signage, I put my earphones in to listen to my newest playlist, but quickly get annoyed by it. Pretty much all the songs are positively energising about kicking heartache in the butt. Tonight, I feel positive without any pep-songs. Taking the earplugs out, I soak in the fresh air, the soft noises of the night, leaves rustling in the breeze and finally, the waves in the distance.
Dog access between ten pm and seven in the morning. Perfect. Not. I like the idea of getting up early, making the most of the day and being an early bird catching the worm, but in reality I am a night owl. Always have been. I can work all night on a project if I have to but have never been able to get up early to finish something. Getting enough sleep has therefore always been a struggle for me, even though I love sleep. Now that I'm older and maturer, I am very much aware of the importance of sufficient sleep and make a conscience effort to getting at least seven hours. On the weekend, I usually make that nine. This weekend, I'm now planning to catch that worm and watch the sunrise with Gypsie at six o'clock.
Harry has always been an early riser. I loved waking up to him being awake, having made coffee or sometimes even prepared an entire breakfast table. He encouraged me to get up and make the most of a day. In hindsight, maybe he just had to rush off. Damn Harry. I don't want to think about you.
I fiddle the earphones free from underneath my shirt and pop them in, then press play. "I'm still a rock star, I got my rock moves, and I don't need you..." Immediately, I feel easier, all those little memories overtaken by the lyrics and melody. "I'm alright, I'm just fine, and you're a tool..."
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Dancing Through The Night
ChickLitWatching make-up girl pass his house is one of the daily highlights of Cohen's bedridden days. She's cute, she's interesting, ...she's pregnant. When Cohen is finally himself again he meets Lani under different circumstances. She needs him, she just...
