I don’t have time for that.

Too much lately… too, too much.

The dog is an asshole in the house. Tethered walks, no matter the distance, are no match for her unending gas tank. I’m tired… and simultaneously have a burning desire to spend some time with the wind and sun in my face and a dog zooming over uncovered ground.

It won’t happen any time soon, though. Nesting season looms and the endless suck of a paycheck will occupy my time until then. With any luck we’ll get out for a run after the group training day over the weekend, but that’s only mildly satisfying. Park at the same spot, run the dog over the same tired ground she’s run on several times a week each spring and summer. No mystery, no adventure. Same ol’ same ol’.

I’ve found myself lately really questioning what I take on, and what I don’t have time for anymore. I’m on the edge of getting to where I want… seems that way anyway. The slog to a lighter load is about 4 weeks away. Too far, but manageable.

I go to work, doing something I mildly enjoy, winding my gears just enough to not be mundane, something I’m mildly good at. Not great, but good enough. It’s anomaly in my generation to view work as a means to an end, or it feels that way.  Most don’t talk about anything but their new next best thing, how much they love it, and thinking about how they can show everyone on Instagram how awesome things are.

Maybe they are that awesome.

But if you gave me a choice between a sunny 25 degree morning with a slight breeze and a dog yawning in frustration at my side before release, or sitting in my office working on “the next best thing”… I’ll take the dog and the wandering, every time.

I’ll come back just long enough for the time and money to go back out again.

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