Just me and the dogs, lying around, sleeping in a cold breakfast room on a damp day.
Their cages are open. Mine is never open. Nor have I a rawhide bone on which to chew.
Although I suppose I could.
Ate Ina Garten’s aglio olio for lunch or some comparable reason. I hope she doesn’t get angry when she comes home. It wasn’t that good.
Dinner with the family tomorrow. Pasting on jowls with bad peanuts as glue in preparation.
You know, for verisimilitude.