I feel incredibly lazy. I am a cat in the sun. (Ignore the reality of fluorescent lights, a glowing computer monitor, and the complete lack of windows I am actually experiencing at the moment).

This laziness is not a side effect of the depression I spoke of earlier, or at least it doesn't feel like that. Laziness born of depression feels grey, lackluster, sodden. This feels more like stretching out, finding a sunny patch, and revelling in looking up at the sunlight through my eyelids. It is definitely less like dishwater and more like buttered toast.

This is the laziness of an individual who has been handed a couple of reasons to feel well with the world.

The first reason for my sense of well-being is that the Fiery One and I are going out of the city on Saturday, and I can't wait to smell the sweetness of profuse plant life and pet rolicking dogs and light things on fire. We are going to a belated solstice celebration that happens every year at Carkus Masey's farm. We went once before a couple of years ago and had a fabulous time. Carkus plans out a fantastic fireworks show meeting minimal safety requirements complete with musical accompaniment. There is nothing like watching a major fireworks production a mere fifty feet from the launch site. I find fear heightens my experience of beauty.

That makes me sound like I keep the heads of my victims in jars in my basement.

The last time I was there, a black dog kept hanging out with me. She would stand or sit next to me and lean in heavily against my leg. By this she was saying I like you. See? We are connected, and by my not falling over I was saying Yes, I reciprocate your feeling of connection and have such a deep affinity for you that I honestly don't mind the aching indentation you have created in my leg. I am not usually much of a dog person, because they seem a might unpredictable to me, but this dog and I just looked at each other and thought Yup, I could hang out with that. It has been a couple of years since I met her, though, and for dogs that can be a long time. I worry that she will be older, stiffer, duller around the senses. I worry that she won't be there at all.

But before I get myself all worked up into a misery spiral about the fleetingness of all life, here's what else I have to look forward to: mushrooms and loud music and tents and good food and great company, especially Carkus and his girl partner and his parents, and the country and the moon away from the light pollution of Cityville and peeing in the bush and actually being able to hear the mosquitoes. I know that I have been stuck in the city too long when going to the country means that I can become reacquainted with my senses again.

The second reason for my sense of contentment stems from this equation:
Schmutzie + Costa Rica = happiness
It is a simple equation, but it has gone such a long way to help me look forward to the future again. My in-laws have fallen in deep like with Costa Rica and will likely be spending a few months there over this coming winter. The Fiery One's father somewhat casually suggested over supper two nights ago that we should come down and stay with them over Christmas. I think I said something retarded like Oh, that sounds nice, as though we were discussing cucumber sandwiches.

I have to admit that I was still a little more entrenched in my doldrums that evening, so my reactions to things were less than ebullient. By "less than ebullient", I mean "completely disassociative", because following my father-in-law's Costa Rican joy bomb, I penned a quick poem entitled "Drowning a Dead Cat" in my notebook. After the suggestion sunk in later in the evening, I was properly thrilled and kept saying to the Fiery One Costa Rica! Can you imagine?, which I'm sure he could, but my tongue doesn't work so well when I'm coming out of a funk.

So, yes, this Schmutzie is one happy camper. Tenting in the country this weekend and the possibility of a future trip to the jungles and beaches of a South American country with no standing army fans the embers for a sunnier outlook. See? Die Schmutz ist lächelnd, oh ja.

"The Lazy Roof" by Gelett Burgess

Read his books:
Goops and How to Be Them: A Manual of Manners for Polite Children,
More Goops and How Not to Be Them, and
The Purple Cow, Goops and More Goops


Things That Have Physically Caused Me A Whole World Of Hurt