I start to feel old when the hydro company sends me an information packet complete with off-peak times graphed onto stickers and I wish they instead sent me magnets.
The dog has a habit of scrambling up in a clamour when I move my foot or even when we look a different way than we have been. She also has a habit of being right at your feet when you haven’t been paying enough attention to notice her creeping up. She’s like a fluffy and more likable version of the ‘sneaky’ guy in Big Daddy. Tripping over her is something I commonly do.
I don’t know how people own dogs and keep a clean house. I realize how domesticated this post makes me sound, and I’m not going to deny it. Dog hair plus residual mud from an unusually rainy November-December gives me a headache. I need tricks. I need tips. I need dog booties and a hoodie for the stuff that splashes up underneath.
As I age, all the things I used to hate about humanity begin to seem so practical.
On another subject, I think I set the bar too high reading Bossypants first because now I expect every book I read to be interesting as well as engaging and funny. One thing I can say for sure is that Kerouac is not my cup of tea and I probably wouldn’t have much to talk about with anyone who does enjoy his work. E-readers are a great way to figure out which authors you would never buy books from. I’ll give my opinion on Hemingway next week. Or I’ll forget. Either way. I typed this.
