The dog next door barks to go out and barks to come back in but I don’t know what he does in between.
I have been waiting for something to happen all day – a good thing, not a bad thing – but it hasn’t happened yet and I now believe it never will.
While we were driving home, we hit a small deer and when I got out to inspect the damage there was little bits of deer fur on the front of the truck but I will write more about that another time.
I am wondering about whether being engaged in bureaucratic conflict keeps one young.
We have become a household with no potholders because there is a dog who lives here with an intense love of fabric.
People I thought were way younger than me are turning fifty which was surprising at first until I remembered how old I am.
The cat is having an episode of protest peeing.
The mailman brought a bucket of mail that had accumulated since we were gone but all of it was either bills or ads, making me wonder if anyone will ever write a letter to me again in my lifetime.
I have been reading the same book for two weeks.
I’m writing a short story about a woman who splits up with her husband and drives their RV over the Mackinac Bridge – not off the bridge, just from one side of the bridge to the other – but it still gives me the willies thinking about how that bridge can sway in the wind and how, if you look down, you can see the water through the steel mesh.