taking notice

Saying that my house is old is an understatement.  Here’s an idea of how aged our rental home is: if you throw a ball for the dog, it doesn’t stop for a LONG time because once it gets close to stopping, it hits a dip in the linoleum and goes another direction for a while before it hits yet another curve in the floor and heads the opposite way.  As you can imagine, this is great fun for the puppy.  She’ll run after her ball and then watch it turn and follow it around the house.  I’d be more annoyed with our warped floor if it didn’t provide such enjoyment for her.

More indications that our home is from another time are random hooks in the ceiling.  I’m not sure if these are plant hooks, or ones upon which you might find a hanging lamp…maybe my living room was at some point the bleeding out room of a slaughterhouse?  Whatever their purpose used to be, they now have a new job.

They are the very reason Olive gets up in the morning.

She wakes up with us, runs into the living room and looks up at them.  If they are there (they’ve never moved), she will then eat breakfast and sit by the door for her morning potty.  We enjoy movie night in this room and she normally heats my lap while her long body is in a half moon shape.  She sleeps through war scenes, laughter, and the alien coming out of Kane.  Nothing stirs her.  Roughly twice during the course of a movie, she jumps out of her (always) deep sleep.  She whips her head around, often with alarming speed, and checks on her hooks.  Whew, still there.  I think she dreams about them.

There is one hook in our bedroom, right above where Brian sleeps.  Of course, the jokes have all been made, and he noted a few years ago that should it fall on him, he’d get quite a bump.  Olive sleeps at our feet usually, with our legs as the hot dog buns, and will wake up in the night to come check out her hook.  This involves a great deal of maneuvering through blankets, waking us up, etc.  There is nothing else in our house or her life that enthralls her as much as the blasted hooks.

I was thinking about her peculiarity recently.  She must, at all times, know about them.  It seems really strange to me, but then again, should it?  What do I keep close tabs on without reason?   Where is the line between taking in creation and becoming overly interested?  I’m not trying to get too philosophical here–there is nothing wrong with taking the time to notice the world around you.  I just wonder what I could have accomplished with that time, were it put to a cause that means something.  That’s probably just the workaholic in me.

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~ by Lindsey on 9 February 2009.

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