Rolling in the fur
I wish the dog could talk. Should we be keeping the bundles of hair that he loses, in case of a cold spell? Seriously. The amount, per day, is impressive. Rolling along the floor until the vacuum cleaner intervenes. We even have a special “brush” that pulls great clutches away, which we then recycle into birds nests (I hope).
Another day, with much better weather. Try to picture me, doing the sunbathing scene out on the deck. All things in moderation, of course; after about fifteen minutes I retreated to a more shadowy place. Can’t risk a burn, when all I want is to convince the rest of the house that I am not in hiding from the breezes.
Found my bag of sticks this evening. Drumsticks. Mallets. Brushes. Everything I need to be noisier. Next time the place gets too quiet, I’ll channel Krupa (or was it Rich?) That should let the neighbour know that I really do enjoy living in the country.
Down south, the Bern is cooling off: Hillary has a new supporter, who comes with his own cheering section. On a countdown to the conventions. Should I hope for the best, or fear for the worst? Back in high school, the CTA album (Google it) had a track that chanted “The whole world’s watching”. I didn’t understand, then. This time around (almost five decades!), I might even tune the TV to an all-news channel just to see the fireworks.
Today I learned that the local university has a Pokemon Gym. Please, let the madness end!
