Spaceless, Faceless: Less is More

Some of you know that a couple of months ago, I did something extraordinary, something amazing, something so unbelievable, it might just be called revolutionary.

I canceled my Myspace and Facebook accounts.

Yup, I know...why?? What am I thinking? How will I function without the constant barrage of status updates, new photos, quiz forwards, mini-apps, etc.?

The Why is simple. Time waster. Yes, I love keeping in touch with everyone and no, I'm not anti-social. I love seeing everyone's family photos and reading your blogs and getting the very occasional direct message from a long-lost high school buddy.

However, most of my time on these "social networks" was spent mindlessly perusing other people's pages or obsessing over background and text color combinations that I never could get quite right. Not a lot of interaction going on.

The comments, though appreciated, leave something to be desired, too. The notorious, "We really need to get together soon!" (translation: I like you but not enough to make plans to see you) just doesn't give me that "connected" feeling these sites purport.

Then there's my own guilt--the guilt I carry from not logging in, not updating my page. Just one more thing on my to-do list. Which brings up another point.

I've got stuff to do! With all of these businesses and ideas and hobbies on my plate, if I ever want to get anything accomplished, I really need to simplify my life and prioritize.

So I decided to take a break--a permanent break--and see if I could survive this cold, hard world without the warm hugs/pokes/high-fives and constant affirmation of receiving a "New Comment!"

I knew I would miss them. I knew it would take some getting used to. I took the plunge and braced myself for impact. And ya know what?

Don't miss it at all. Not one bit. You know how they say you can't just ignore your problems and make them go away?

Well good news. You can! That is, if the problem is who to keep in your Top 8 or whether to befriend your ex-boyfriend.

I'm a terrible mother.

I rushed home from work this evening to check on the puppies. It's been so cold outside that we haven't been able to put them in the backyard, so they were cooped up in the house all day. (Not really "cooped"--there is a doggy door. But they're quite domesticated and don't usually go outside unless necessary.)

There they were, safe and sound. The house had suffered minimal damage, considering a 7- and a 9-month puppy were bounding around in there all day. A few pillows in the floor (they love to try to drag pillows outside through the doggy door, but it usually takes them all day to do it), but nothing irreconcilable. Whew. Thankfully, today was not a replay of last week, when I came home to shreds of paper all over living room...the pups had discovered my Frank Lloyd Wright coffee table book, and apparently they are not fans of the famous architect's work.

Unfortunately, I had to rush out again. So I refilled the food and water, stuffed Mally's Kong with just enough treats to keep her entertained for a couple of hours, and headed out the door--but not before rechecking the bedroom doors to ensure each one had been tightly closed. (They were.)

I was the first to get home afterward. One of the joys of my day is sliding open the pocket door between the laundry room and kitchen and bracing my body against the kitchen counter as my little girls leap toward me in unbridled exhilaration. Reunited! However, this time, only Mally was present for the homecoming.

At first unfazed, I scanned the backyard to see if Eshe might be lagging unaware amongst the flowers and squirrels. All the while, Mally leaped and barked about me in her usual manner. Then I heard it: that frightful little yelp, undeniably crying, "I'm in trouble, Mom!"

Oh no! My little Eshe (pronounced ESH-ee) was hurt! But where was she? Frantic, I imagined her trapped beneath a piece of furniture or paralyzed from a showdown with one of those pesky squirrels. I poked under tables and chairs. I checked the laundry bin. I peered outside into the dark backyard again.

Then I heard a terrified squeal from the back office and knew what had happened. I rushed down the hall to find my little baby trapped in the office! Somehow--still don't know how--she got into the room even with the door shut. Problem was, she shut the door back on herself and couldn't get out! Poor thing was trapped in a pitch-dark room with no way to get out and Mally scratching and barking on the other side. Both sides of the doors were scratched to pieces. But the worst part is that the little pup managed to uplift a patch of our month-old new carpet as well!

Sigh. Shane was not happy about the carpet. I was disappointed too but mostly relieved to see Eshe safe. I feel like a terrible mom! I can't help but wonder how long she was in there and what she must have been thinking.

Now I triple-check the doors.