|This morning's rude awakening.|
Now, Mom doesn't watch TV (even on the treadmill), but that whole HGTV-like deal about every part of your home being perfect all the time has, rather unfortunately, seeped into our own home. It could be severe nesting syndrome, it could be the grim cold, but all I know is how it's affecting me.
If you take away a dog's chair, he'll find a couch to sleep on
(preferably newly upholstered, although I could have done without having to move the just-cleaned carpet put on there in the vain hopes I would find it to be an obstacle);
if you take away a dog's couch, he'll find a bed to sleep on;
if you bother the dog by ironing nearby, he'll find another bed;
if you annoy the dog by vacuuming within twenty feet of said bed, he'll find yet another bed;
when the sun moves from that spot, he'll find...
a sunny couch to sleep on.
And when you move him from the couch...
he'll make you take him for a walk.
|If I'm looking a bit devilish, it's because this photo was taken|
preparatory to yet another unceremonius upheaval.