Preparation Age
Originally sent to my newsletter subscribers on Monday, March 13, 2023.
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I turn 40 this year, and the one thing I’ve learned in my almost 40 years is that I have more to learn now than ever before.
I don’t mean learning about existential issues, like life and death. I’ve solved those. And I don’t mean personal issues, like health and finance. I’ve given up on those.
I’m talking basic stuff.
Like how to take my dog for a walk.
***
This morning, like every morning, I gather her leash, my keys, and a roll of poop bags.
This particular roll is new. Secured onto itself with a little sticker in the shape of a blue leaf.
Already, I have questions.
Why is it a leaf? Nothing about the process of picking up dog poop in a mass-produced bag spooled around a tiny toilet paper roll screams leafy. A leaf connotes eco-friendliness. And I doubt single-use plastic is what Captain Planet uses to clean up after his pup.
And why is it blue?! Oceans are blue. Mood swings are blue. But a leaf? Not even in the Amazon, the most biodiverse ecosystem in the world and after which the seller of the bag is named, contains plants with leaves this blue.
Anyway, we get outside and she begins her routine, first with the “number ones,” marking several very specific spots, surely frustrated at having to remark the same spots every morning.
Or maybe she’s not frustrated. Maybe she does what needs to be done without prejudice or emotional response. (How wonderful it would be to be a dog!) Or maybe she doesn’t look at it as remarking, and more “y0u SeEM pLEAseD WhEN I g0 hERe. anD HErE.”
Next, the Main Event. She hunches over, turning into that telltale curl of a dog preparing to make a Twosie, and goes. She finishes and bounds off in the opposite direction, putting as much distance between her and her work as caninely possible. At least as far as this 6 foot leash allows.
Now it’s my turn. To pick up her push, not to make my own. I pull the roll from my pocket and fumble with the sticker. It’s cold out. It’s raining. My normally highly dextrous fingers—weird flex, I know—are numb from the cold and the wet. But I persevere, despite being pulled in one direction by a frisky pom and in another by civic duty (hehe).
With each failed attempt to rip the sticker with my freshly trimmed but now useless man-nails, I grow more frustrated.
I have more questions.
Why didn’t I remove the sticker upstairs in the comfort and heat of my apartment, where I could use scissors or an exact-o knife, or somebody else’s (Wiff’s) talons to remove the leaf? Why didn’t I remove the sticker in the hallway as I waited for the elevator and for Bailey to stop running laps down the hallway and back in excitement over her pending poop?
Soldiers don’t load magazines on the battlefield. Speakers don’t write speeches on the stage. Why did I wait until we were on the street to ready the roll? Why hadn’t I prepared?!
It’s in this moment I realize something:
I don’t appreciate being prepared.
Until I am not.
I should appreciate preparation every time I cook. The spatula’s clean. The pans are stacked. The pantry is organized. It even has labels. The food’s in the fridge. Most of it’s fresh. It’s ready to use with minimal prep. The counters are clean. So is the board. Everything is ready to go.
But I don’t stop to appreciate the work I’ve (Wiff’s) done to prepare.
Without preparation, things aren’t in their place. Could you imagine trying to cook without preparing to cook? Where are the pans? They’re not in their spot. The spatula’s dirty. I have to wash it. Which wastes time. Which makes me angry. And makes a simple task like making breakfast a chore, a lot like taking a geriatric dog for her morning squeeze with a fresh roll of bags secured with a stupid leaf.
Finally, in a flash of rage, I claim my victory. I shred that stupid blue leaf, rip off a bag, slide my hand inside, and take a moment to embrace the hard-earned lesson: next time, remove the sticker before the walk.
…only to learn that for every lesson learned, another, harsher one awaits:
It doesn’t matter when you aggressively remove the sticker…
if you forget to check the bag for holes. 🖐️💩
