Charlie — she knew when to stop. ©2025 Myrna Urmanita. All Rights Reserved.
The other day, my Photos app was glitching, so I decided I might be running out of storage space. I started going through them to delete some, and I found this photo of my granddog, Charlie, our Goldendoodle.
I smiled and thought, dog tired — that’s how I feel.
Today was the first morning I felt rested after being up for endless hours every night, laboring over my website. Piecing it together. Brick by brick, for the past year or more.
No easy task. The learning curve alone was hazardous to my temperament.
The screen was blurring. I rubbed my eyes. They burned.
My eyelids were heavy, drooping.
I ached—from my elbow to my wrist, my chest to my toes.
My fingers stiffened. I hunted and pecked at the keys.
My ears echoed…buzzing…ringing.
This wasn’t aging. This was exhaustion.
I knew when it was time to stop—my cramped fingers pecked an angry note to the AI. It was creepy.
But when I finally finished…wow. That surge of relief, satisfaction, pride—I let it go out into the universe.
While a faint voice lingered…updates, typos, malfunctioning buttons—all the potential fixes.
This wasn’t my first time at this. I created a blog fifteen years ago. I didn’t know what the heck I was doing, but I was up for the challenge.
Keep in mind, I was also fifteen years younger. Still a sprite, an energetic senior back then.
It went well. I had several readers who enjoyed my rambling—my daily walks, my loving pets, my spontaneous chatter about family, my art, even a bowl of fruit.
Why did I do it? Back then, it was my creative outlet. My connection to the outside world.
Then life happened. And I drifted back into the real world. I let go of the blog, but I saved all the content. I loved writing, and I knew I would get back to it all one day.
I glanced again at Charlie—stretched all funny, completely at rest.
She knew when to stop.
And now, me…
I’m still learning.