Stretching like a lazy cat amidst the warmth of my sheets left me wondering why I should bother to get up today. Nevermind I have two puppies that lick my face when their bladders need emptying; I can always get carpet/wood floor cleaner my sleepy mind told me this morning, but ok, I did get up.
At least to avoid nauseating odors from seeping down to the neighbors on the 1st floor (I think it’s the first floor) and thereby hopefully also avoiding the verbal assaults by Czech Grandmas’ speaking no English, wanting to take me to task for poor puppy care.
My apartment in Prague is on the 2nd floor, which is actually incorrect in that you have the street level, then steps leading up to the ground floor, with more steps leading upward, so in essence I live on the 4th floor. The building has an elevator, a funky contraption added outside the back of the building within the last 10 years or less, stopping between floors, which puts me between 2nd and 3rd floor. No wonder when I finally do get up to take the puppies for their ritual daily, I am always confused in what direction to proceed, in addition to being half asleep.
The weather has been delightful brisk of late. In my haze, at the junction of being yanked out of slumber by wet tongues and looking in the mirror gasping at my hairs standing up from pillow mating, I noticed my perky nipples, recalled just in time that the weather has been in the low 50s to high 40s, self preservation making me reach for my jacket.
To take the puppies out, I need a few things.
If I plan on walking them, I need their walking harnesses (being a small breed calls for not yanking them by the neck, German grip and all), the leashes, a poop bag, something to cover my hand with for scooping, my keys, my cell phone, shoes for walking, a jacket as mentioned above, and of course, clothes on.
If I plan on taking them down to the wild grassy courtyard instead, I need less; I can go in socks and need no harnesses and leashes. So here I have to decide every day, every 4 hours at a minimum, which is less of a trek and more of a ‘puppies, lets go potties’ call to arms. Most days, especially in the morning, the walk in socks wins out.
So this morning, a sock event it was going to be, I had decided that before I had to chart a course at the front door. I had everything: Clothes on, jacket, a poop bag, a small plastic bag to cover my hands for scooping, my keys, my cell phone, my long hair in some resemblance of normalcy tickling and annoying me (the missing hairs not noticeable), and of course…socks on.
I opened the door, we sauntered down the staircase to the ground floor, I unlocked and opened the back door, the puppies dashing out with glee into the briskness, heading for the grassy parts, doing what must be done. And me? I stood there like I had been hit by a freezing 4×4 out of Alaska, big doe eyes blinking ….. similar to when the headlights of a car scan the forest and find nature’s perfection silhouetted against the roughness of the tree’s bark…shivering like I have not shivered in Prague before
I was puzzled at my freezing state, truly I was. I had a jacket on, a shirt, socks but wait …. geezzz ….. do you know Larry the Cable Guy? The Comedian? He sells clothing and since I love his humor, I own a few items of his for sleeping purposes, i.e. pajamas.
Here I was standing dressed in a heavy shirt, a jacket, my long hair covering my neck to keep out the kiss of the wind, heavy sock … and with flimsy boxer like shorts that let in the breeze like a vengeance. I can’t recall what the writing says on them … but somehow it reminded me of “here is your sign”.
The puppies ignored my whining to come back to me, pee and poop taking priority over my goosybumps, the hallway unforgiving with its concrete coolness behind me. Crap I thought, might as well just sit on the steps right there and freeze my tush off too since everything else will fall off anyway. No wonder the building’s Grandmas look at me with suspicion daily, shake their heads collectively over coffee klatches I am certain, moving past my ‘dobre dens’ with a painful smile. I shall win them over, eventually, Larry or no Larry.
Somewhere between the US and Prague I turned from a common sense individual into a haphazard bohemian acting like I was just now starting to live life. Did I tell you that I love Prague? I do, I actually do.
With freezing love, from Prague.