When writing day gets pooped on.

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Apparently our dog had an upset stomach overnight. Repeatedly. We never heard a thing – no whimpers, no cries, not a single desperate woof to go outside.

We slept peacefully right through everything.

But, by looking at the state of our carpet as I walked through the living room early this morning, Cookie’s night definitely lacked the serenity of ours. Did I mention that it’s white??? Our carpet. Yep. We actually have white carpet. With pets.

Today was supposed to be writing day. I woke up this morning ready to hunker down with my solitude, my comfy clothes, my mocha, and my laptop. I had been thinking deep thoughts and was all ready to express myself. I thought.

This may sound odd, but I have to be in a certain “place” in my mind before I’m able to communicate my thoughts well. The atmosphere needs to be just right in order to stop the ferocious swirling of ideas that constantly goes on in my head. Somehow these need to be transformed into loosely intelligible concepts.

For this to happen, it’s better if I’m alone. It just is. It has to be quiet. I have to be calm. I have to HAVE calm. Peace. Comfort. Stillness. Cool air. Soft music. Chocolate. No distractions. And absolutely no harshing of my peace bubble in any way, because then I have to fight my way back to that “place” all over again.

That’s why today was so important. Today I’m alone. Today promised tranquility. I’m wearing my comfy clothes. I have a fan blowing softly in my face. I’ve been thinking deep thoughts. And there’s chocolate. Perfect.

But today I also have dog poop. Everywhere. On white carpet.

So … I made the choice of maturity and accepted this disgusting mess as my reality. Besides, it was clearly going to stay right where it was until I grew up enough to stop pouting about it.

I stood there for a while inspecting the crime scene, not really having any idea where to begin. I started by dragging out the heavy carpet cleaner, the gloves, paper towels, a squirt bottle, extension cord, and everything else I could possibly think of to clean all this up. Even after nursing, raising two kids, and having pets my whole life, I had never faced THIS before. And on white carpet, no less.

I’ll spare the details, but suffice it to say that after quite a bit of time and elbow grease, the stains were successfully lifted out of the carpet and I was finally ready to put everything away. Mission accomplished.

Until I saw that little spot about a foot away.

This stain was older and probably had come from someone dripping their drink at some point. It was right there … close enough to do a little scrub on it while I had all the supplies out. The extension cord was already at its limit, so I just took the cleaner’s attachment hose and stretched it just enough to reach that little spot. Got it. Wow. Easy. Really glad I saw that before I put everything away.

Then I turned back around and saw to my horror that, in stretching the hose out that far, I had inadvertently tipped over the carpet cleaner and it was now leaking a quickly spreading pool of dark brown “poop” water through the carpet. My CLEAN, white carpet.

Having no time to cry right now, I just rushed over there and sucked the mess right back up with the hose and calmly went through the entire cleaning process again. But only in that one area this time, thankfully. And I was a professional by this time … I knew EXACTLY what to do to fix this.

After I was done, I couldn’t help but be amazed at myself and celebrate the multiple levels of obvious maturity with which I had handled all of this.

First, on getting up this morning, I actually only walked by this mess four times before I stopped pretending that I didn’t see it. Limited denial. Very mature.

Secondly, my rants were minimal and contained absolutely no cuss words. As a writer, I’m always attempting to stretch my vocabulary in order to better express myself. But … as a Christian, I’m also called to LIMIT my vocabulary, as well. Very proud of this double whammy. And so early in the morning!

Thirdly, as I scrubbed, I had willed myself not to grumble. Nope. I had planned my perfect writing day insisting that it had to be “just so”. But obviously God had also wanted to remind me that the only “just so” I really need is His. He makes EVERY day His own perfect “just so” just for me. In SPITE of me, actually. And just for YOU, as well. Remember that.

Plus, He obviously had another direction in which He wanted to steer my thoughts today, right? Because surely all my deep thoughts hadn’t included writing an entire post about dog poop. Had they? Surely not???

So by the time I was finally putting my cleaning gear back into the hall closet, I had actually become quite impressed with myself. At long last, I have finally grown up. I can now handle whatever “life” throws my way. And not grumble. And not cuss. And there were no tears involved, either. Amazing. Truly.

But then something caught my eye to the right. Something that wasn’t there earlier. Something dark. On the carpet. Apparently, while I had been sweating it out cleaning the living room, sweet Cookie’s upset stomach had been getting busy in the guest room. All over the white carpet.

Let me just end this right here by admitting that there WERE tears this time. Lots of them, actually. All over the white carpet. But still no cuss words. At least not yet, anyways.

Thanks for growing with me. ❤

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)

 

2 thoughts on “When writing day gets pooped on.

  1. I totally understand needing to get to that “place” to write. I would have cried and cussed from the start, I’m pretty sure. Thanks for the encouragement when my future writing days get pooped on, because it’s sure to happen.

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    • Yep, I believe that God occasionally throws a little “poop” our way just to rattle us out of our “places”. We get too comfortable and become self-reliant there, instead of constantly reaching out to pull closer to Him.

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