Late last night I arrived London and in record time I was back in my little flat. TC is sick, nonetheless he’s prepared dinner, nicely dressed and has styled his hair. He’s looking really quite cute. Good doggie!
I went to uncover my hidden large stash of dope to reward him with a Scooby snack. Unfortunately, he’d already found it. Worse, his bloodhound nose had uncovered it a mere 3 days after I’d left. He was all proud of himself. “See I called you every day even though I didn’t need any treats from you, aren’t you proud of me”, he joyfully cried. Yes, I am.
It was quite warm to reconnect, we’re just good together. Decided if the weather holds we’ll make a run down to this weekend and spend 1 night by the sea in Brighton, fairy capital of Britain.
This past weekend, I was milling around outside my house. Car, garage, repairs – that sort of stuff. My neighbor’s coming & going, none stopped to say hello. They actually seemed a bit distant, like I had the plague or something. I assume they know something is amiss in my martial situation. My wife confided the whole story to a “trusted” neighbor.
But good gossip is hard to keep to yourself. No doubt the entire neighborhood knows the story. Doesn’t bother me. I’m alone. I’m comfortable alone. Got used to it long ago.
I’m off to Amsterdam for a quickie trip. No rest for a nomad.