But I had an observation. Well, I have had several. But my dog is looking expectantly at me because the timer just went off. My first observation has to do with just that. My morning routine goes something like this. Wake up, drink coffee with husband. Fly into a panic, trying to get the world's slowest boy up and out the door to school. Come home. Deep breath. Into the studio, check in with the cyber world, email and facebook. Go set the timer. Sit at the animation desk and draw.
I set the timer because this is how I motivate my son, the aforementioned slowest human on the planet, to get homework done. We race the timer; it gives us a finish line. Everyone needs a finish line, especially when working on long and drawn out projects. So I set the timer for myself, and then I sit in the chair. Assglue. Pardon me, buttglue. The eleven-year-old has become extremely sensitive to any sort of bad word. So my question is this:
What does the dog think I do?
She knows that I will come home, sigh, set the timer, and sit in a chair. She doesn't know that work is actually being done, the way she can sense work getting done in the garden. I just sit in the chair, to her, inert, until the timer goes off. When the timer goes off she jumps all around because she knows this is when we go for a run. So in her mind, my day is dictated by timing myself to sit in a chair, and not to move until it goes off. It must seem very very strange.
So my timer has gone off. The dog waits with the pleading look in her eyes.
I have a couple more observations I'd like to blog about, but they can wait.
