I woke up this morning, staggered to the door and let Jack out. I jabbed the ON button on the coffee maker, and opened the fridge for the morning beverage.
Oooh, I thought. Cold water!
I've been sticking a pitcher of water in to cool off. So I grabbed the pitcher, only it didn't feel quite right...
See, if you move out of your house and leave your ex most of the extra kitchenware, keeping only enough to do basic cooking, you find yourself improvising containers. Fortunately, I noted the weight difference before I poured myself a nice, cool glass of black beans with smoked pork neck bones.
I managed to cope with unchilled tapwater (I don't like ice cubes). After some coffee, and some CNN, and some more wrestling with this goddamsunuvabitchratbastard printer I got, one of us was going a little stir-crazy.
OK - not a little stir-crazy. Yesterday's rain kept us from having an Activity, so by this morning we had progressed to following me into that bathroom, stalking me with a slobber-covered Cuz toy, and glancing meaningfully at the leash while whining.
The solution was obvious - incorporate the dog into my run. He had to wear his "training collar" to help remind him not to lurch hysterically after squirrels, but that did not impact his overall joy at getting out and about. And, after 30 minutes, victory was mine.
A tired dog is a happy dog.
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