It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the amout of time I spend at the sanctuary precludes much of a social life.
That includes a religous social life.
Today was the first day since I sprained my ankle I resumed even semi-normal animal care activities. As it was my Sundy to coordinate the volunteers, I was head honcho. No one could tell me no. So I gimped around 6 cages, filled water bowls, picked up extra meat, picked up the result of not-extra meat, and cared for the animals.
This is the best fucking day I’ve had in so fucking long.
I have mentioned to friends here or there that I believe to some extent I am completing a higher power’s will by caring for these animals. What I don’t think I mention is why I feel that way. That the fulfillment I get from dirty legs and latex gloves is something I can only hope for others.