I don't even want to get into it.
I just wanted to provide my reason for not writing.
And we have company thirty miles away. Thirty miles close. And while it makes me sad for our company that I am pathetically entertaining them while I'm sick ("Hello. Welcome to my house of germs."), I'm somewhat enjoying the irony of living in a city that has endless sunshine over three hundred days a year and having guests for the one weekend that it rains.
Welcome to my house of germs and the valley of the
p.s. Mel now hunts Atticus. I'm not sure yet if it is all in fun or if she is thinking he looks like a delicious snack. He's only got her beat by a measly pound, which isn't much. And she has claws. I'm monitoring the situation closely. She also takes great delight in running around after me in the morning. I look like I am leading a parade because then the dogs come after us. When she gets close enough she attacks my ankle/leg (without claws). And she still ignores Jeremiah.