It's OK to ask for help.
Remember a few weeks ago, when I came to that conclusion? That I'm not very good at it and I need to try doing it more often?
I got hit in the face with another good one a few days ago.
It's OK to let people help, even when you don't need it.
Let me backtrack for a moment.
I spent New Year's weekend in Middleofnowhere, Idaho, surrounded by giant, thin pines draped with freshly fallen snow and by an amazing group of friends.
We made merry, ringing in 2011 in fine style.
It was like a fancy camping trip. We grabbed all our booze and food and fixings from Spokane, Wash., and ensconced ourselves in the loveliest of cabins, a remote, wooded resort area.
And Shep went, too. Yay!
He was the beau of the ball at times. How hard is it to not love him after all?
Especially since he happily served as cabin garburetor when we cooked too much food.
Onto his bowl went the leftover bacon and eggs.
Nom nom nom, said Shep.
We left him to his afternoon nap and went across the path to Party Cabin. We ran out of beer and had to make a trip.
'Hey, the place still smells like bacon. Maybe we should open a window.'
'Um, hey, Ang, you might want to look at the floor.'
There I stood, mushing around a couple of piles of runny dog poo, not even noticing as I focused on my singular task of More Beer.
My heart sunk. I made my dog sick. I didn't even notice his distress when I burst into the cabin.
My singular task became Operation: Bacon Shit. I grabbed what materials I could find -- paper towels, water, Comet and a plastic bag into which I shoved each wad of poo-covered paper towels -- and cleaned up the mess, all the while my stomach lurching at the wonderful aroma of doggy diarrhea and bacon, two smells I loathe at the best of times.
'Let me get that for you.'
I looked up. My friend stood there with the cabin mop in his hands, offering to help.
No, I said. And I was adamant.
Shep is my dog. He is my responsibility.
Thus, his messes are my responsibility.
And as I've learned over these last 20 years of living alone and independence, if I don't take care of my responsibilities, no one else will.
My friend became pissed off. All he wanted to do was help out of the kindess of his heart.
I said no.
It took me a few minutes to recognize what I'd done and I felt horrible.
So, it isn't simply enough to realize I have to learn how to ask for help. I also have to learn how to accept it when it's offered.
Because people are kind. And they care. And they want to help ... without ulterior motives.
Especially when shit happens.
Especially bacon shit.