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So I've been trying to make myself walk the dog in the mornings as well as the afternoons, for my sake more than hers, because it perks up my mind and makes me more lively. Unfortunately, it perks up the dog's mind and makes her more lively too. So, I wrote a couple more verses to the love song I've been working on for years, but the dog keeps interrupting me, as if I didn't do a good enough job of interrupting myself. She is convinced that if she barks loud enough and jumps around enough she will seduce the cat into playing chase with her. The cat thinks the dog is an annoying whelp who interferes with the very serious business of complaining about his food.
Zac dropped by briefly and now the dog is staring at the door as if she just can't believe he abandoned her again. But she's calmed down. She really adores Zac. I don't know why. She gives him the level of affection she generally saves for the young men who have slept on the couch.
I will make this deadline. I will.
And then a Julian story to read and comment on, some thinking about why I seem to be writing about bureaucrats and the rural proletariat all the time, and back to the novel. And looking for work.
Zac dropped by briefly and now the dog is staring at the door as if she just can't believe he abandoned her again. But she's calmed down. She really adores Zac. I don't know why. She gives him the level of affection she generally saves for the young men who have slept on the couch.
I will make this deadline. I will.
And then a Julian story to read and comment on, some thinking about why I seem to be writing about bureaucrats and the rural proletariat all the time, and back to the novel. And looking for work.