Before she knew what beds are

Last night was rough. I didn't sleep well or much. It is kind of my own fault in some ways. Several days ago I ran out of Zzzzquil, so falling asleep is a challenge. 

Note to self, go to the store and get some. 

Doug also started listening to an interesting podcast called The Constant, which I recommend. His usual pattern is he plays one episode and falls asleep, and the sleep timer is set to turn off the podcast at the end of the episode. Most of the episodes are 10 or so minutes long, which is never enough, so now he sets the timer for an hour. And that sometimes puts us in the middle of an episode, and he's asleep. I get sad when I don't hear the end, and I don't want to play it on his phone lest he not know where things were left off (truth be told, he just replays whatever episode he last remembered hearing before falling asleep). 

I go in the guest room and pick up where it left off. 

I know it is bad form to confess this, but I skip the ads at the beginning of the episode. The volume of the ads is always twice that of the episode itself, which is infuriating. Thanks, Spotify, you jerks. 

Then, I'm awake, skipping ads at the beginning to get to the content. Sometimes there is a longer form episode, but it is too interesting to just fall asleep. So I listen to the whole thing. Sometimes I do fall asleep but wake up WHEN THE ADS START FUCKING SCREAMING AT ME AGAIN. Like that. 

Last night, I also had some wild muscle spasms in my feet. 

And the dog. I have got to figure out how to teach her to sleep at the foot of the bed, instead of up behind my head and shoulders. She also spreads. She melts. She's like caramel instead of toffee. She big. 60 pounds she big. She likes her half in the middle, and actually on my side. I got up to pee at one point and she was just horizontal across the bed, the entire bed. Moving her is a challenge. I imagine this is what it must be like moving a giant sea lion. I get her to sit up, then she won't move, then I'm trying to nudge, lift, cajole, and she is not participating. At all. 

I do love my dog. I love this monster. I will pat her and lay my arm across her like I'm sleeping with my partner or something - because she's that big and that high up in my bed. I listen to her snores, and sometimes the softness of them makes me fall asleep. 

Last night I took this, I have a nightlight in the bedroom and it was on, and just enough light to get a shot of her here. I ponder her nose, and think that the markings she has there are actually scars. 

Part of me wonders what her life was like before she was rescued. Before she found out what beds are. Before she knew what safe felt like. I think this is why she sleeps all up on top of our faces. Not only that but from what I understand that is a Staffie/Pit behavior anyway. 

Did she huddle with other dogs, hiding for comfort from the weather? Was there a bridge where they'd cram themselves into the space, bodies touching to be warm? Did someone feed the strays or was it all just dumpster and trash can surfing? What about the heat? DC is so hot. Where did they find water? Where are the other dogs she may have known? What happened to them? 

I run my fingers over her nose, just touching those marks. Saying little blessings, mantras of peace and love, safety and security. While begging her to move her ass just a little bit over to the other side of the damn bed.

digits below. 

digits

exercise: 12/12 hours. no walk today. 6100+ steps today

blood glucose:

8:15am: 171
5pm: 178
10:30pm: 155

food:
coffee/water
11am: Entenmann's chocolate donut (damn you Geoff)
noon: English muffin w/pb
1pm: Metformin
6:30pm: pot roast a la Geoffrey w/ some chinese white rice thrown in (unavoidable)
7pm: metformin+jardiance
8pm: cheez-its
no wine/etc