Today I worked another super-long, 12+ hour day. Why is my car always the last, lonesome one in the parking lot? I got home around 8:30, I believe, which isn't bad, in comparison to what I've already done this week.
I love my job, and I certainly love being engaged in something that requires my creativity, my enthusiasm, and a healthy sense of problem solving (which my craft of teaching does indeed exercise), but it sure is a drag that it takes so much time from me.
Thank God for my wonderful parents who are willing to have a hot meal ready for me as soon as I call to tell them that I'm departing school. Tonight my parents were going out in the evening, so they actually met me at my front door to deliver yummy goodness that merely needed to be warmed up. Thank God for them, 'else I would have surely wasted away by now.
Whenever I get home, the very first things I need to do are:
1. Kick off the uncomfortable heels.
2. Hit the bathroom.
3. Toss off the annoying professional threads.
4. PET THE DOVES!!
But tonight I went in reverse order. I simply HAD to play with my babies first!! I went straight for the cage, enthusiastically removed its top, immediately began to fuss over them, and--in our joyous reunion--Pure excitedly leaped into the air and flew in jubilant circles around my living room! Innocent, perched on my hand, watched with me.
Now the Lisa of Last Month would have been HORRIFIED with such behavior, fearing that unexpected raisins might drop onto special things (and worrying that a free bird might be impossible to catch again). But the Lisa of this Month has developed an even closer rapport with the doves that suddenly the things of her apartment just don't matter as much, and it is not a worry that a loose dove won't be caught -- because their sweet nature always brings them back again.
Usually it is Innocent who takes risks flying, like he did last night when he flew to sit on my head while I sat on the toilet.
Once I collected Pure from her landing spot beside the couch (she willingly stepped onto my outstretched finger), I decided to put the birds on my shoulders -- to see if they would stay there while I prepared my dinner. Innocent took my left and Pure took my right, and together the 3 of us enjoyed one another's company while I washed my hands, found a pot, turned on the stove, got a plate, and poured myself a glass of milk.
Of course, I spoke to them gently the whole time, describing in detail all that I was doing, since it was all I could think of to tell them. At this point in the day, a teacher's brain has literally turned to MUSH, so the simplicity of a one-sided conversation was perfect. But, now that I think about it, I describe what I'm doing ALL DAY LONG as well (as I teach math), also in a mostly one-sided manner. Ah, the irony.
