I opened this document by accident, though there are no accidents, so I am stuck, it is late, and I am tired this morning. I finished Neil Gaiman's book, Neverwhere, earlier and highly recommend it. I found it to be delightful. Having said that, I shall close up shop for the moment.
Well, there was an incident. Little Simon, it seems, got in trouble today. I had gotten up at 11, as usual, having gone to bed very late, also as usual. After 20 minutes of sitting on the toilet lid in the bathroom, waiting for the energy to pick up my shoes and put them on, I finally managed that and stumbled out of the bathroom and the bedroom and into the kitchen where the coffee I had made last night had brewed itself at 9 a.m., as it was set to do. Simon, who had been sleeping beside the bed on the far side, followed me out and went to the kitchen door. I assumed he had been in the bedroom with me for a long while and needed to go out, so I opened the door and let him out. No big deal, eh? Who boy!
I hadn't gotten to the far side of the kitchen with my coffee before the kitchen door flew open and the little dog came flying back into the house, along with a screaming Fury, Medusa perhaps, apparently right out of Dante's Hell: "Do not let that little sh&@t out again!" she screamed; I cringed and tried not to look at the waving snakes on her head. "Every time he comes out, he tracks something to the end of the boardwalk and starts digging and he will not listen. His feet get all muddy and I have to stop and wash them before he can go back into the house! I've had it with him!" Door slams shut. I look at Simon, Simon looks at me. "Whew! That was a close one," one of us said. I grabbed a Yoplait raspberry yogurt from the refrigerator, went to the dining room table, pried the top off and held it down for Simon to lick. My new day had just begun. It was 11:45 a.m.