It's snowing out. Again. I'm tempted to just stay inside and do nothing, but I seem to be the only one in the house who is willing to do poop patrol. As much as I dislike going out in the snow every day to pick up dog poop, it's way better than the alternative. There's nothing worse than facing the great poop meltdown in the spring if you haven't kept up with it and the melting snow leaves behind a slurry of slimy shit. (My apologies for the language... I had to go with the alliteration.)
It occurred to me today that I managed to get through the holiday without eating myself sick. Yee haw. I hope that means that I did a better job of controlling myself, and not that my stomach has stretched to accommodate a larger volume.
I thought my dogs were quiet when I'm not home. Friends have said that when they come over and I'm not home, the dogs don't make a peep. However, today the delivery guy left two Milkbones wrapped inside of my bill when he dropped off the water jugs. If the dogs don't bark, how else would he know to leave the treats? Does he remember that one single time that I was home and he carried the bottles inside for me (and therefore met the dogs) three years ago? Hmmmn... methinks the dogs aren't as quiet as I thought.
I ordered myself a late Christmas/early birthday present today. I'm very excited, and if it turns out as well as I hope, will show you when it arrives.
Tallulah has taken it upon herself to empty every coat pocket in the house of its gloves. Although I've got a couple pairs of heavy-duty mitts for the really cold days, I also tend to buy cheapo light-weight gloves to go with each of my coats and store them in their pockets for easy access. Today, most of the coats are on the floor, having been yanked off their hangers and divested of their gloves. Multicoloured gloves are everywhere.
There's something to be said for short, dumb dogs.