lips parting to the notion

work was a fucking drain. have been up since 330 am with pointless, laughable insomnia. a great dane had exploratory surgery- he had ascites, the doctor suspected cancer- only to find what ended up being over 3# (i weighed it) of clothes in various stages of entirety. a completely intact (very large, utilitarian) bra. women's (again, not sexy) underwear. men's underwear (tighty-whiteys, stained black with stomach acid). a leather glove. kid's socks. a thick knee-high sock. more gloves. 2 intact ziplock bags. shrapnel of various other bras, backs still hooked. all this, plus a huge glob of mostly unchewed food. i wore gloves, thank god, and picked through all of it. found out after that the dog is shuttled between a divorced couple. "their underwear was comingling!" said one of the other techs. "it's a sign that they should get back together."
it probably need not be said that the dog apparently tried to chew out certain parts of the undergarments more than others.
i am squeamishly aware that they were probably not clothes sparkling clean from the dryer, either.
humans are so much more repulsive than animals. i once saw a dog vomit a used condom, though. that was pretty disgusting.
but throughout the horribly long day i have been riding a wave of sha-la-la-la. things are fucking good. i have a weird, foreign trust in the future- things will be damn marvelous, this summer is going to be lip-bitingly brilliant, there will be sunburns and road trips and love and skanky motels and grassy confessionals and everything negative will be dealt with, rolled with, grooved on, what have you. vocational shit, snide coworkers, depression, neurological fuckedness, overbearing yet oblivious family, the relentless cold rain, frenetic mania, et fucking cetera- pshaw. silly, ephemeral fearlessness. the paranoia, the 'truth', will come crushing down again all too soon, i'm sure. as usual. i am a bit predictable this way.
oh, sweet minutae, you stiff and soulless lay: thank you for reminding me of my need to scrounge quarters and do laundry. the lustre of everyday life just floors me.