Spring break, in a word, was “uneventful.”

Two weeks with just me and the dog—and by the end of it, I’m fairly certain she was sick of me. To prove it, she left a pile of barf under the kitchen table. I’ll chalk it up to the weather… and too much time together.

I was uninspired. Sloth-like. Zero motivation—and no way to shake it. It didn’t help that she shuffled from one corner of the house to the other, letting out heavy sighs just to remind me she was still there. Even writing felt like a chore. Writer’s block… or maybe it was more like: I NEED A F’N HOLIDAY.

The plan that wasn’t

I was annoyed at myself for not making plans and quietly resentful of everyone who managed to escape the rain. If it weren’t for a few good friends in town, I might have lost my mind. My laptop got a serious workout as I scrolled travel sites, hunting for a last-minute deal—anywhere with sunshine. Nothing came together. And then reality hit: I had nowhere to send my furry sidekick anyway. Sigh.

Enter: The Dog (and the Drama)

The days dragged on, grey and uninspiring. If she wasn’t sleeping, she was whining—out, in, out, in—like a revolving door, with me as the full-time doorman. She’s an old girl, stubborn and set in her ways (honestly… same), but I couldn’t help wondering if she missed her normal too. They say dogs can sense emotions—maybe she felt everything I was trying not to.

All by myself

This was my first spring break on my own. All by myself. Cue a mental flashback to Bridget Jones, with Celine Dion belting in the background. Honestly, it wasn’t that far off—minus Mr. Darcy, Daniel Cleaver, or, well… any man at all.

It felt strange. Not bad—just unfamiliar. My home has always been full: kids, friends, noise… and of course, the dog. Oh my god, that dog. I’ve come to accept she has me completely wrapped around her paws. We walk when she wants to walk—and only with me (unless you’re carrying a suspiciously generous supply of treats). Try taking her out when she’s not in the mood, and I end up looking like a dog thief, dragging a deeply unimpressed accomplice down the street.

Our new normal

Maybe that’s what this spring break was about—letting go of what I thought was “normal,” and learning to sit with something new. Maybe she felt it too: the anxiety, the uncertainty, the quiet sadness. Or maybe she just doesn’t like rain.

Either way, it feels like we stumbled through it together—finding our footing in whatever this “new normal” is. Hopefully, with more doors opening… and fewer closing.

LC