I both want to be writing and to tour a historic home the tour guides believe is haunted. (Did I tell you guys that I saw a website the other day that claimed Isaac Franklin’s home is haunted by the people he bought and sold?! That must be crowded as fuck. 10,000 angry spirits.)
And I want to finish this afghan. You guys cannot believe all the tails that have to be tucked. I tuck and tuck and tuck and tuck and it’s so little progress. I mean, it’ll be done, soonish I imagine, but whew, I’m probably not doing another octagon afghan, even though I kind of like it better than the hexagons.
Sonnyboy and I got home from our walk and discovered both a sick Butcher on the couch and our friend, the black dog (my current guess? Saluki/Shepherd mix.). In the past month, he’s probably been with us almost two weeks–a solid week when we dog-sat him and then days while his house was being shown and sold. Not two solid weeks, but a lot of time.
And TODAY was the first day he seemed genuinely friendly to me. Not cautious or nervous, but “scratch my butt! Hurray! That’s awesome!” friendly. It was pretty awesome.
Of course, it caused Sonnyboy to climb into the Butcher’s lap, because, I guess, if the Butcher has a dog taking up his whole field of vision, he can’t see the other dog to give it any attention.
I only hope I don’t come home to find Sonnyboy barfed on with that approach to life.