I found that I only ever write what's on my mind if I'm interested in what's on my mind. No self-obsession = infrequent posts. When life is just life, I write nothing. That sort of builds this expectation that life has to be like a movie. How often do you see someone sit down on the toilet with their crossword in a movie? Never. Not because it's inappropriate but because it's boring. Everyone wants shooting and love-making--nothing in between.
So, the time since my last post has seemed like three months worth of "toilet-sitting," except for these highlights:
I got to go home for a day or two. My little boy is just as slobbery as ever. And the other doggy is warming up to me as well. Toward the end of my stay, all I was good for was a vigorous scratch. I would come outside, the pooches would come to the door to greet me, and then they would turn over on their backs and paw at the air until I started scratching.
He has such a big, flat tongue that when he goes to lick you, you get slapped in the face. He's the most awkward and precious dog.
I try to play dead, but he never believes me. He can't smell rigor mortis, so he just sniffs and licks my face until I get up and scratch him.I'm tired of writing already. More later, I guess
