Little Messes

Why do I even bother?” I grumbled to myself. It was a freezing 36 degrees (that's 3 degrees C for you fellow metrics out there) out, and I had stopped on an incline and was trying in vain to stop the stroller from rolling down the hill with my darling 16 month old daughter in it. Seven, my dog, had just deposited her latest fragrant offering on a neighbour's lawn and I was stooped over, trying not to breathe in as I picked it up with my scented poopie bag. Which, by the way, does nothing to mask the scent of the poop. Rather, it now just smells like baby power poop.

I was grumbling because picking up said poop was really too much of a hassle. And besides, judging from the 4 or 5 other piles scattered throughout the grass like little poopie colonies, I could tell no one else bothered. But pick up that poop I did. Just like every other time my dog decided to drop some kids off on the lawn.

Why? Because it's disgusting to just leave it there for everyone to see, or gulp, even step in. It's a duty (heh, doodie) that I took on when I became a dog owner, and just because other people don't, doesn't give me the all clear to shirk my, ahem, doodie duty. And well, this crazy universe, being the way it is, would probably find some way to make sure I was the one who stepped in it.

I have my own little messes that I refuse to pick up and I end up stepping in them more ofter than not. Rage, jealousy, gossip, and laziness are just a few. And they lay scattered about the lawn of my life in plain view, yet I don't take the time to scoop them up and throw them away in the trash where they belong.

I stepped in rage just the other day when my dog went tearing down the street after a squirrel and almost got hit by a car. After I went and retrieved her, dragging her back by the scruff of her neck, I proceeded to scream at her and smacked her on the butt a bunch of times for good measure. When I was done with my not-so-little tirade, I looked down and saw my poor, sweet dog, quivering and afraid. Because of me. It breaks my heart that I lost control, and now gaining back her trust will take a thousand times longer than it did to lose it.

I step in laziness all the time. When laundry piles up and instead of sorting through it, I sit on the couch and read. Or I get on the Internet and waste my time away. I tell myself that I deserve a break, I work hard and need to rest. And that's true, until I look up at the clock and almost two hours have gone by. Elise is now up from her nap, and I guess Fred won't have clean socks for work tomorrow.

I have to scrape jealousy from my shoe every time I compare myself to another person. Her house is bigger than mine. She always looks so well put together, I wish I had style like that. Their car is newer than ours. Ugh, I hate it! A friend once told me that comparison breeds contempt, and boy can I be contemptuous.

And gossip can be some of the nastiest mess to clean up. Because it affects other people. You're not the only one stepping in it, but you're smearing it all over others by gossiping to, or about, them. I know the hurt that is caused by someone talking (or worse, spreading lies) about you. So why do I roll around in the very mess that makes me sick?

If I can make the effort to clean up after my dog, then I need to start cleaning up my messes too. Hopefully I can find a scented poopie bag that is big enough.