Two very interesting facts from today's observations:
Number one.
On our way up the street for that walk I mentioned earlier, I had to stop at Kenneth's car to readjust the sling. While the door was open, Siddhartha jumped in (which he has only just been doing recently in order to cope with the absence of our old neighbor's cat and Sid's best friend, Chuck. Chuck used to jump into the cars of the people he lived with/near and also he catburgled our house for catnip a few times until we shut the attic windows at night.) and found a crumpled bag of what used to be a pastry from a coffee shop and what is now merely crumbs. He pulled it out of the car and we went on our way.
Have I reached the point yet? NOT MERELY!
But first let me take a break to introduce fact number two. This evening after toying with the idea of sawing off my arm in order to leave EE with a pillow, I instead waited until she'd fallen into a deep enough sleep. Patience is a what? It worked! She didn't notice as I snuck my arm out of the sleeve of my robe and wrapped her in it so I could get in the bath.
When we got home from the walk, a few hours later, we opened the gate, walked up the stairs, around the main house, through the mud (and it felt like a longer distance because of exhibit A, crying baby; exhibit B, super heavy tote bag of government approved groceries brought to us by WIC and completely excluding all organic, cage-free, or extra-sharp products; and exhibit C, a gallon of RBST-Free 2% milk, also government approved. When we finally reached the door of our garottage, a welcome sight was beheld. Not a dead mouse, or a dead bird, or a dead snake, or a half-alive injured version of any of those three, but a lovely crumpled paper bag full of what used to be a pastry but is now merely crumbs.
Then when I was sitting up in the tub, with my legs stretched out straight in front of me reaching all the way to the other end of the tub, I farted. The bubble traveled down the underside of my thighs in a manner similar to but not remotely the same as a bowling ball coming back to its thrower on one of those magic tracks that so fascinated me as a child and if I went bowling probably would still. It came out between my knees, the bubble.
Thanks for reading.
On our way up the street for that walk I mentioned earlier, I had to stop at Kenneth's car to readjust the sling. While the door was open, Siddhartha jumped in (which he has only just been doing recently in order to cope with the absence of our old neighbor's cat and Sid's best friend, Chuck. Chuck used to jump into the cars of the people he lived with/near and also he catburgled our house for catnip a few times until we shut the attic windows at night.) and found a crumpled bag of what used to be a pastry from a coffee shop and what is now merely crumbs. He pulled it out of the car and we went on our way.
Have I reached the point yet? NOT MERELY!
But first let me take a break to introduce fact number two. This evening after toying with the idea of sawing off my arm in order to leave EE with a pillow, I instead waited until she'd fallen into a deep enough sleep. Patience is a what? It worked! She didn't notice as I snuck my arm out of the sleeve of my robe and wrapped her in it so I could get in the bath.
When we got home from the walk, a few hours later, we opened the gate, walked up the stairs, around the main house, through the mud (and it felt like a longer distance because of exhibit A, crying baby; exhibit B, super heavy tote bag of government approved groceries brought to us by WIC and completely excluding all organic, cage-free, or extra-sharp products; and exhibit C, a gallon of RBST-Free 2% milk, also government approved. When we finally reached the door of our garottage, a welcome sight was beheld. Not a dead mouse, or a dead bird, or a dead snake, or a half-alive injured version of any of those three, but a lovely crumpled paper bag full of what used to be a pastry but is now merely crumbs.
Then when I was sitting up in the tub, with my legs stretched out straight in front of me reaching all the way to the other end of the tub, I farted. The bubble traveled down the underside of my thighs in a manner similar to but not remotely the same as a bowling ball coming back to its thrower on one of those magic tracks that so fascinated me as a child and if I went bowling probably would still. It came out between my knees, the bubble.
Thanks for reading.