long, trailless days

I am laying in bed. Peter is at school studying & will be there long after I am asleep. Augie is stretched out next to me, preventing full utilization of the covers. Pico is curled up next to my feet, his head draped over my ankles. Duncan is purring in my ear. I am utterly exhausted. The inevitable strain of adjusting to a new job, the unaccustomed early mornings and long commute on unusually bad roads for this time of year have built up over the last two weeks. My body is still stiff and sore from my fall two days ago, my hip downright painful even with max doses of Ibuprofen eating into my stomach lining. I collapsed into bed when I got home at five thirty, and forced myself to get up and take care of the sled dogs around seven. Although the cold air and brief companionship did me good, tonight it feels like a too much. The trails are still bad, there is no promise of snow, the dogs are restless, and I can barely get it together to fix them dinner.

Yet the thought of having an empty yard, and no sled under the porch waiting ... as tired as I am, that is untenable.