Feb. 6th, 2007

jhetley: (Default)
The stuff out there looks . . . used. As in, the yellow patches, the brown lumps, the dust, the packed footprints turning to ice under sun and single-number (F) temperatures. My general dislike of dog owners grows day by day. (This should not be construed as a condemnation of specific dog owners who train their animals and clean up after them, but that subset looks like a minority from here...)

Less windy earlier, but the gusts are picking up again. Wife has a big pot of pea soup simmering in the kitchen BUT IT ISN'T READY YET. Sorry, there I go with the shouting again. The stuff smells good.

Oh, gee, the dog across the street is barking again. That's my exposure to dogs, most of the time -- dogshit generators, sources of endless barks, and sets of teeth that threaten mayhem to bicyclists. Or, on occasion, cross-country skiers. You say you've heard this song before? Third verse, same as the first.

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jhetley

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