annanotbob's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Don't know when I'll be back again I'm sending my body out into the world to do things, but the rest of me is lagging behind a bit. Yoga this morning, taken by Rupert, he of the incredibly slow and considered sun salutes, which was I love. I came home and managed to not only phone the accommodation office, but to post all the bits off and to put in a request for the cashing in of my last little bit of savings. So I was cruising along in a bubble of peace and achievement until I took Millie to the park where she rolled in some dog shit which I didn't notice till I put my hand in it as I put her back on the lead. Fucking hell. I mean, really, Fuck Ing Hell. She had a big dollop of it across her shoulders and neck, and had managed to smear it into her collar and into the ring the lead clips onto. Aw man. Not much on my hands, but any is too much dog shit, especially when the nearest place to wash is home. Jane says to not let her roll on the grass for fear of what she may roll in, but a dog squirming about on its back is such an expression of pure joy and pleasure that I can't bring myself to stop her and this is the first time there have been consequences. But, oh, I really didn't want to have to take her home and clean her and I had to. Apart from the fact that Jane has specifically warned me off this behaviour, I had Millie today as Jane was having a minor op and the house was empty. I couldn't just open the door and shove her in, no matter how much I wanted to. Bloody dog. When we got back to mine I made her go in the garden, and shut the door on her while I washed my hands and had a fag and tried to regain the post-yoga calm. It was hard because Millie is such a wuss. She is fucking abject in the face of displeasure and that just wound me up even more because I wasn't shouting at her, or even threatening anything horrid, I was just pissed off and didn't feel all snuggly with her. Fucking dog - I've never done anything approaching hitting or kicking or otherwise hurting her, yet she cowers on the floor as if in fear for her life. Bah. I managed to get her up the stairs and into the bath without getting the shit onto anything else, but she shook and trembled and looked at me so pathetically WHILE STILL BEING COVERED IN SHIT. By the time that was done all my plans went out the window. I knitted a few more rows on the non-stripy section of my stripy cardigan (ie one sleeve), watched Big Brother, fetched Sara from the station and sat up with her chatting and smoking till nearly three in the bloody morning. Bedtime now. Grateful for: Good time with Sara; visit from Marion; lovely cottage pie for dinner - might go and have a few spoonfuls of cold leftovers before I turn in; new Ruth Rendell book; loosing half a stone with the flu so that lots of previously tight clothes are comfortable again. Under thirteen stone for the first time in ages. That's from 188 lbs to 181. Skin and bone, almost. Sweet dreams and happy weekends xx |1:10 a.m. - 15/08/2009 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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