#midlifereinvention lifelessons friendships gratitiude couchsurfing dogtraining
Text
Couch surfing is deceiving. It looks easy but it’s really hard
In my inaugural post, I concluded by saying I was heading to Los Angeles for a change of scenery and to explore opportunities. And as it happened, one of the conversations I’d started before arriving, became real on my first full day in LA. We agreed to a 3-month trial and if we both decide it’s a good fit at the end of the 3 months I’ll be relocating from NYC to LA.
The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying. Of course, you want to deliver great results, so that you are asked to stay on, but am I really ready to leave NYC? I mean LA is a fun place to visit, and I’ve talked about it moving here, but with the security of knowing I was locked into NYC- until now. Which brings me to lesson #1 in this post: Don’t underestimate the little things. Remember me espousing the belief that I am currently tethered to nothing and no one? Not entirely true. My family is outside of Philadelphia less than a 2-hour drive from my Battery Park apartment. I have an amazing network of friends with many of the friendships running more than a decade. My favorite workouts, restaurants, hell even the “go to” drycleaner, who can literally get out any stain. And so much more. It’s called a life and I was so wrapped up in thinking about a job and a relationship that I forgot about all the other things that make up a life.
And now here I am in LA with no net. Not even a go to Dentist. Clearly, I’m not in a 3rd world country, but you get the point. Familiarity breeds contempt, but man when everything is unfamiliar, the longing is palpable.
And I’m still dealing with the post-traumatic stress of the most recent fallout with my ex. (I know horrendous to bring him into a 3rd post, but whatever it’s part of what I am dealing with). Friends who don’t read my blog (and most don’t) have no idea I have seen him in the last year or more. And the ones I confided in are so sick of hearing about it, the ability to have any sympathy is just non-existent. And I don’t blame them. I have zero sympathy for myself at this point. And do question my sanity.
So, all of this is happening, while I start a new job, where I need and want to impress. I’m in a strange city with only a handful of friends. And I’m couch surfing, i.e. staying with an incredibly generous friend. Which brings me to lesson #2 in the post: True selflessness is a humbling. I feel a combination of guilt, relief, and the kind of gratitude you have for someone who has saved your life. Guilt because she has more on her plate than any single person should have to. And adding another body in your already full house is a lot. And let’s be honest — I’M A LOT! She couldn’t be more welcoming and gracious but I feel/am a tremendous imposition. Relief because I don’t have to pay two rents, and I get to come home to a familiar and beloved face (faces including her two kids and 10 -month old lab puppy — more on him shortly). And gratitude for having someone extend such kindness. This is more than a good friend. This is family.
So while I am not technically couch surfing — I have a lovely room which I have taken over from her 6 year old son (yes you read that correctly), I am living in someone else’s home, and just generally imposing on every aspect of her life. Because despite the awkwardness, it just doesn’t make sense to look into something of my own until I have clarity on whether or not this is a permanent relocation. And as it so happens, she and her children are out of town the bulk of the summer leaving a mostly empty house.
Which brings me to lesson #3 in this post: Be careful what you wish for! All those times I wished I could be more free-spirited and accepting of others generosity? Let me tell you this is harder than it looks. I have listened to stories over the years of mooching friends, wondering how they “pull it off,” and thinking, “man I couldn’t do it, but really wish I could!” I’ve always prided myself on total self-sufficiency, and if anything, being the one to pay the tab or let someone crash with me because I was “so sorted.” Also I am a bit of a control freak. I like having my own space, with my things organized just my way, and my whole routine. So being in someone else’s home, carless for the moment, without knowing the places to run errands, or having any of them be walkable, makes you feel incredibly dependent and unsettled.
And there’s the shame of asking a million stupid questions — is there a Starbucks between here and work (don’t worry I’ll make you coffee); how about a drycleaner (I’ll drop your stuff); is there a drawer I could use (give me a few days to clear out my son’s clothes); Do you want to go hiking this weekend (sure! Even though I know the answer is most certainly — NO) Cringe-worthy.
And so, this control freak became determined to be the best damn couch surfer/house guest. How could I do it? Could I cook dinners? No. As it became immediately apparent everyone ate on different schedules. Could I book my trainer friend to train us? Maybe. But would that even be a workout she liked and a time that worked? Keep thinking Julie! And then the answer seemed handed to me on a silver platter…
When my friend picked me up from my AirBnB and was driving me to begin my stay at her house, she mentioned that he puppy was pretty out of control and might be the most challenging part of my stay. THERE IT WAS! I would train this puppy! So we walk into the house and I meet Kota. Well my student was a handsome devil. Pure white with a big square head and inquisitive expression. He was a large one too — about 70 pounds full of wriggling, constant moving, chewing, and barking puppy power. My immediate diagnosis — this dog just needs exercise. So, shortly after entering the house, Kota and I were off for a walk
Kota didn’t have a prong collar, typically a helpful way to train big strong dogs to heel and walk properly. I was not deterred. I’m big and strong and I can do this. Well this dog dragged me to and fro across the neighborhood streets, sniffing and wiggling with joy and abandon. I could see he was happy to be out, but I was beginning to realize I might be in over my head. I had grown up with big German Shepherds, but they were all trained by my mom. And my own beagle, Beemer, had come to me as a show dog — trained and saintly.
But I figured I’d get into a routine, great for both of us. I’d wake up early and walk the loop of my friend’s hilly 1 mile neighborhood. Hell maybe 2x around! Start the day off right for both Kota and me. And I’m sure the more I walked him the better he’d get. I’d pick up a nice prong collar and we’d take it from there. So Thursday am I woke up tired and slow moving on the heels of The Grateful Dead show. But off I went. Letting Kota drag me about half way through the neighborhood before giving up and turning around. Tomorrow would be a fresh day, not hung over and stressed about a new job. We’d start then.
Following work that same day, I arrive back to Bel Air. My friend and her kids were relaxing after dinner and watching some TV. My new best friend Kota greeted me with interest. I had some new hire paperwork and first day email follow ups, so I set up at the breakfast bar in full view of the family so I could maintain some sense of sociability and do what I needed to do.
Which brings me to less number #4: Don’t underestimate your task! I quickly became engrossed in some personal emails and my friend and her kids made their way up to get ready for bed. I remained perched at my breakfast bar stool, face fully into the computer. Kota was downstairs with me. I assumed we were together in companionable silence. We’d probably been alone for 10, maybe 15 minutes when I looked down and noticed one of the two espadrilles I had put on the ground beside me was missing. And almost instantly I knew the culprit. Kota. Sure enough, it was dangling from his mouth. He had been waiting for me to notice. I stood up and watched over and in my most authoritative voice demanded he drop it. Instantly he stood up and ran to the back yard, and then popped his head back in the house and the chase ensued. That fucker was most certainly having a glorious time taunting me. I alternately tried to cajole and demand. Neither worked. I got desperate and offered bread. It worked. Only the damage was done. The entire strap was chewed off and its contents, including the buckle were in Kota’s stomach.
I went upstairs to complain to my friend who was trying to enjoy some quiet time with her daughter. She asked me gently for a few more minutes. I sheepishly left the room and went back downstairs to face my tormentor. And in the 2 to 3 minutes since I’d gone upstairs Kota had not gotten hold of a pen. At some point, he had ripped up a significant area of my friend’s white living room rug and lay chewing on the pen in the newly bare spot on the rug. So not only was it bare it was blue. As was his feet and his tongue. Arghhhh this fucking dog!
This dog, that I was going to train, as the legacy of the greatest couch surfer of all time, was making me look like really really really bad. Actually, more like the worst house guest ever. Causing more problems than anything. I had to grab my friend abruptly from her daughter’s bedroom as I literally how no idea how to handle her new blue dog, who by the way wouldn’t drop the pen, and wanted to engage in another game of “catch me if you can.” So, after she windexed as much blue from him as she could and I apologized as much as you can in this kind of situation, I made my own quick exit to bed.
And as I lay in her 6-year-old son’s bed, I was feeling blue. A lot like Kota looked actually. What was I going to do? I was now feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the prospect of this dog. Especially with a new job, which after only one day I knew was going to be long and arduous hours. And as I continued to ruminate on how quickly things had unraveled this evening, it dawned on me that Kota and I had a lot in common, We were both antsy and anxious beings who didn’t know what to do with our excess energy and anxiety and instead of having any ability to self soothe or channel our energy productively we got destructive. Hmmmm. This thought might be too deep to tackle in this post, and it certainly was at 10pm that night. So, I did what the experts say you should do during moments like this– I went the fuck to sleep.
And this brings me to the final lesson for this post: There is always a silver lining! When I woke up in the morning I had new resolve. Surely, I was humbled, but I wasn’t yet ready to give up. I would walk this dog every morning and at minimum and goddammit that was something. So off we went as my friend again readied her kids for school. This time, I managed to let Kota drag me through the whole neighborhood loop, and there were a few minutes where a passerby might think this dog was walking quite nicely! And even better this loop is steep hills throughout. Good for Kota and even better for my ass! WIN WIN! And so here we are. The dawn of a new day and new possibilities for me and Kota, and for finding my missing ass ;)
2 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
