There are no pictures. I was too tired and annoyed. Once again, Maggie May decided to go to the house behind and eat broken open pecans. I chased her right into the bushes in my neighbor's yard and kept beating on the bushes.
I drove back home and walked to the back corner of my yard. There she was. She was just so confused and trying to figure out how to get back into the yard. The privacy fence stopped her. The chain link fence stopped her. The chicken wire stopped her. So, I went far enough to the corner that there was no fence. She still looked confused.
Back into the house I went, sat down, and tried to catch my breath.
When I went back out, she was in the yard happily pecking at flakes of oats in the pen.
urge to kill
Right now, I am going to the laundry and hope to be back by midnight. All my black pants are dirty. My black jacket has milk all over it. Black socks are dirty. Black sweater is dirty from soup tonight.
Does it ever seem that when you have no easy access to a washer that all sorts of things get dirty? Or something similar breaks and you need it more than ever?