Why do we have so many books? And junk in general? I'm beat. Hopefully I'll get all the books put today before further mitosis occurs: I'd thought I'd counted twenty boxes total and I put away six or seven yesterday, but there are still twenty full boxes.
No running yesterday or this morning because I feel like I've been getting adequate workouts anyway, plus I got "glutened" at a local restaurant a few days ago. I don't know how I lived for over a decade with this ground-glass gut feeling! Anyway, for the past two mornings, we've walked, but that has become a dietary issue as well, albeit for a different party: there is some animal that poops by the lane behind our house. My dog's version: "leaves a morning snack...". I spoke harshly with him, especially today (my voice was especially laden with disgust, I'm sure), and now he's in a huge funk because he has to apologize by licking my face, and that's just not feasible. As a result, he's become extremely clingy, which would be funny except that it's somewhat awkward having a 65 pound sandbag at my feet when I'm moving things around the house and can't always see the floor past what I'm carrying.
So, he's turned into a poop eater here. It's not dog or cat poop as far as I know: he never used to eat those before. In Maryland, he'd pass up rabbit and fox poop and bird (duck, turkey, raptor, etc) and almost always deer poop. I haven't identified this poop because he's been too quick to grab it both days but it's obviously irresistible. Maybe it's possum? That would be new on the menu. He used to know "leave it" and "drop it" but desire has trumped those.
Apparently I'm more willing to contemplate poop than boxes....
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