The dogs are quite verklempt this morning. Someone is on a trip, so there was packing, which means Miss B starts trying to bunch all the humans in one room so she can keep an eye on us all. When she can’t, she gets a wee bit anxious, and I have to give her other jobs so she’s distracted.
Boxnoggin, of course, is not very distract-able. It looks like his preferred means of dealing with a human’s upcoming trip is to attempt to eat luggage, which isn’t very outré as such things go and is rather funny, but cannot be indulged in.
So now Boxnoggin is in the living room, keeping a watchful eye on the street. He suspects something in the house has changed but can’t figure out just what, and hopes it isn’t dinnertime. Miss B is under my desk, draping herself over my feet, because if she can’t herd the children into the same room as me she’ll settle for making sure I can’t move without permission, ever.
Of course, they’ll get walkies, and this is the week Boxnoggin and I up our running frequency, though not our duration or pace. I suspect the cumulative exhaustion will hit him somewhere on Friday night and he will suddenly become the best-behaved of dogs.
Me, on the other hand? I am not well behaved when exhausted. If only it were so simple.
Boxnoggin just trotted down the hall to check I was still in my office. I don’t know where he thinks I’ll go, but at least he cares enough to nose-boop. Which I need today. There are stressful things afoot this month, and I’m glad of these fuzzy little goofballs.
I should probably eat breakfast. I want to work on the trunk novel instead of paying projects. I’m still playing Shostakovich’s Second Waltz obsessively. It’s merging with Lara’s Theme inside my head, so I whistle a strange stitched together Frankensong of it while out walking.
It’s not the Farmer in the Dell, but it’s probably terrifying to hear on a foggy morn. Ah well–one lives to make everyone else’s life a little more surreal, to make sport of our neighbors and have them make sport of us.
Breakfast, then. I have nothing much to say today, which is probably for the best. Let’s hope Tuesday is a little less Monday than Monday was, shall we?