My day today was filled with critiquing and dog poop. I know everyone is now asking how your days could become as exciting as that, but to tell the truth not everyone can be as lucky. I took the hell hound out for a walk down to the bridge this afternoon and when she wasn't engaged in leaving her own brand of fertilizer up and down the side of the road, she was busy snorking up other wonderful aromas, that because of all the snow being gone, are now free to waft through the air. Although I'm pretty sure that most of the piles are not in fact dog poop, they are more like porcupine, raccoon, and possibly coyote droppings. Ah the glorious scents of spring time! Although animal shite isn't exactly the creme de la creme of my day, I would so much rather she tangled with a pile then an actual porky. So woo-hoo.
Then when I got home and had lunch, soup and tuna sandwiches (and three rather small and pathetic speckled trout provided by the Hubby) then I threw in a load of laundry and sat down to do some critiquing. And because it wasn't poetry it was wonderful, and easy, and not filled with tension and pressure. So yay me! I am soooooooooo not a poet.
Kitpu Goings On
Me: So why did you keep a couple of minnows, are you going to use them for bait?
Hubby: These aren't minnows, they're fish. I'm going to fry them up for lunch.
Me: I think that flu may have effected you more than you realize.
Hubby: Smart ass, I think I'll go pile some wood now.
Speaking of not being a poet I had better quit sitting here and telling tales from the Old Shoes and Tea Society, and start working on a story for submission.
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