Heats onlywhat he wants
A sudden gust of wind. A poorly latched door. Something to explore. That’s how it works with our dog. Sleep for hours and then, suddenly, a burst of energy. He left, off to visit the neighbours. Feigned deafness, so that our appeals to forget this plan and enjoy a snack went unheeded. The rain (of course, there was rain) did convince him of the “higher level of comfort” inside, so he circled around the bird bushes and came back to be toweled off, praised and pampered. He’s too old to treat in any other way, and when I get to his age, I hope for life to be that good to me.
I am discovering the pleasure of fresh bread. That machinee? Of course. Not moving beyond a standar loaf, in my quest for perfection. I now know that jam is good, as is melted cheese. Not at the same time, although culinary accidents can lead to culinary delights. I may have to search (a little longer than before) to find the jam jar among all the other, similar jars. Inless I ask. The cheese, in contrast, has a particular drawer, and a particular form factor. No, we eschew those slices of fake whateveer. This is standard Cheddar, made locally. Good for a quick snack (with or without bread). Even the dog has that figured out, and he can hear the unwrapping from half a house away. The same dog that could not hear his name being called, as he headed across the way. There is something odd, there.
Those new temperatures, in England, are actually noteworthy. If you can stick your mug, oht the window, and brew tea in the falling rain, the world is not in a good place for climate change. And when the tarmac is melting beneath the planes, it points to a special summer.
