My heart is racing as soon as I roll my arm over to the nightstand, and pound the phone with my thumb.  Snooze, snooze, snooze, please.  I roll back and close my eyes, while my brain goes from dazed to alert and concerned in seconds.  My chest feels very heavy with an occasional tug every few minutes.  My stomach is chattering loudly.  Another week, same start.  I silently analyze the possible reasons for the discomfort.  Is it last night’s pinot noir, followed by a dark chocolate, gelato laced Napoleon?  Or the dull pain felt since realizing my pets will all pass before me?  Maybe, as the morning talk shows say, the simple lack of sleep has prodded my body into dysfunction.

There isn’t much time for quiet contemplation on a Monday morning, and so I jump out of bed for the morning ablutions.  The sick feeling accompanies me.  It hovers over my hands as I stack papers and shove them into a bag.  It is observant while I open and close the fridge, before ultimately deciding that today needs to be a fasting day of sorts.

Can it be that it is another Monday, and I am still sourcing dull outfits paired with interesting bracelets for a looming staff meeting? That is the most disconcerting thought of all.  I will sit quietly, facing the organizational chart of “committees supervising sub-committees leveraging councils,” and I will take furious notes…about my grocery list.

I grab the requisite house and car keys and rush out of the house, down the steps and into the car. The package in the passenger seat is the one my husband said he needed today; so I awkwardly squeeze back out of the car with the package in one hand and keys in the other.  I am certain I will burst into tears.

I break into a smile instead when I walk up and see my open kitchen door.  My basset labrador (yes, such a thing exists) is standing in the center of the room, tail wagging and face grinning.  My husband is there too – clearly the dog is magical, but not enough to sprout thumbs, or grow four feet taller, and tackle door handles.

Somtimes, a long dog with a fat neck is what takes the edge off.  I turn on the ignition.  Dunkin’ Donuts large French vanilla with cream does not hurt either.  Inner peace comes slowly.