I tend to have a lot of projects going on at once. I bustle from one to another, stopping only for the briefest of breaks. Last week, I stayed up far too late finishing a project, and the next day I was tired. And, if I’m being honest, a little cranky.
Still, I was determined to squeeze as much work as possible into the day. I huffed around, drank some coffee, and dove back in.
A few hours later, I hit a wall. My eyes were hot and heavy, my head was pounding, and my thoughts were dark and scattered. Time for a break. I shut down the computer and walked into the living room, where I found my dog, Dusty, sprawled on the couch.
“Mind if I sit with you?” I asked. He seemed fine with it. I sat down. Dusty shuffled closer.
I stared into the distance, my thoughts still racing. There was so much work left to do, and every finished task seemed to birth two more. I set my phone alarm for twenty minutes. Just enough to recover. Just enough not to fall behind.
Then something happened. Dusty nudged even closer, rested his big head on my lap, and drifted off to sleep.
I slowly reclined the chair and closed my eyes. I felt the tension begin to drain away. The urgency faded.
Twenty minutes later, the alarm buzzed. I silenced it quickly. Dusty was still sound asleep, his face peaceful. I looked down at him, then toward my office.
I couldn’t get up without disturbing him.
And honestly, I didn’t want to.
I rubbed his ears and whispered, “You’re a smart boy.”
And I slept.
Because sometimes the smartest thing you can do is nothing at all.
About the Author
Rod Price has spent his career in human services, supporting mental health and addiction recovery, and teaching courses on human behavior. A lifelong seeker of meaning through music, reflection, and quiet insight, he created Quiet Frontier as a space for thoughtful conversation in a noisy world.
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