We've (Bud and I) got Bach billowing through the Altec Lansings and it's gorgeous. And I don't have to schlepp downtown tomorrow to an office full of zombies. How lucky is that?
Also, I'm getting caught up with Lisa Kogan from O Magazine. Not in the flesh or even via personal email unfortunately. You see, I don't know her yet - she doesn't know me - yet. But trust me - we are going to be buddies one of these days. Here's an excerpt from a recent column entitled "Top Reasons to Get Out of Bed Every Day". Why I adore her, is quite clear,
Ordinarily, I would not include houseguests on my list of bright spots, but Mabel, the dog I am currently babysitting, is causing me to rethink my position. Mabel suffers from a chronic greeting disorder that manifests itself as follows: I leave the room for 10, maybe 12 seconds. Upon reentry, Mabel welcomes me with a level of enthusiasm usually reserved for soldiers returning from three years in a POW camp—a one-dog mariachi band of pure, unmitigated joy. Unless my boyfriend and our daughter sense that I'm carrying a pizza, my return from nine or 10 hours at the office rarely merits more than a mumbled "They never came to fix the dishwasher." There's something to be said for a bit of good old-fashioned, uncomplicated affection, even when it comes from a shedding, slightly incontinent 14-year-old beagle.
Also, I'm getting caught up with Lisa Kogan from O Magazine. Not in the flesh or even via personal email unfortunately. You see, I don't know her yet - she doesn't know me - yet. But trust me - we are going to be buddies one of these days. Here's an excerpt from a recent column entitled "Top Reasons to Get Out of Bed Every Day". Why I adore her, is quite clear,
Ordinarily, I would not include houseguests on my list of bright spots, but Mabel, the dog I am currently babysitting, is causing me to rethink my position. Mabel suffers from a chronic greeting disorder that manifests itself as follows: I leave the room for 10, maybe 12 seconds. Upon reentry, Mabel welcomes me with a level of enthusiasm usually reserved for soldiers returning from three years in a POW camp—a one-dog mariachi band of pure, unmitigated joy. Unless my boyfriend and our daughter sense that I'm carrying a pizza, my return from nine or 10 hours at the office rarely merits more than a mumbled "They never came to fix the dishwasher." There's something to be said for a bit of good old-fashioned, uncomplicated affection, even when it comes from a shedding, slightly incontinent 14-year-old beagle.
No comments:
Post a Comment