Arriving home from school is an adventure. When I press the garage door button, the dogs perk up, rush the laundry room door and bark “hello.”
I back into the garage, shut off the Element and put the garage door down. After collecting my computer bag, lunch tote, and water bottles, I work my way to the door into the house.
The barking quiets, but Houston and Hef scratch on the door telling me to HURRY UP.
I brace myself, bend my knees to make sure the 300 pounds of dog coming at me do not tear my ACL.
After hanging my bags in the laundry room, I wedge myself through the dog gate along with the three big dogs. Then, holding my breath, I creep around the corner wondering what I will find.
Today, I found the gratitude journal I kept in 2014 scattered in the living room and across the snow in the backyard.
Upstairs, I found the rest of the gratitude journal; a book about “transforming my life” that never worked; and, a chewed up can opener.
Looking on Amazon, I found a can opener for “seniors with arthritis.” I’m 47. Do I qualify?