Give the dog a bone: not
There. That didn’t hurt at all. I remembered where my cubicle was, and the login credentials and even the names of those who hang around the place all day. Pretty good for an old dog, after an extended seashore holiday. Can I do it again? Please? The seashore part, I mean. Getting back to work is productive; nothing more.
This was also the day that a large part of the student population return to class. Full bus going home! First time in months. Their attendance will wane, what with actual social lives and jobs and such, but for the next couple of days I won’t get the seat I want. Or deserve. Aren’t seniors supposed to merit preferential treatment? Leet the record show: my preferred seat is on the shady side of the bus, by a window. Alone, if possible. I’m particular about sharing seat backs.
How is it that the bag of oranges I bought a couple of days ago is already half moldy? Do the stores “seed” those seedless varieties with random fungal traces? I’m not ready to give up on citrus, so the replacement bag is in the fridge. Won’t stop progress, but I might get a couple more breaks out of the crop. And don’t suggest that I go for juice in a can; not the same thing. I want the challenge of the “single peel”.
Gave the dog a bone, after supper. So much for instinct. He was clueless about what to do with it. Had to take it away and hide it for a future moment (No, I didn’t bury it out by the big tree…) When he decided to search for it, an hour later, I knew that he was a victim of sleight-of-hand. So easy to fool him!
