Our third week with Darcy was the week from hell. It started with a near-death experience; peaked with a brief pyroclastic flow from one of the writers in the household whose work schedule is being eaten by the dog; and ended with an upswing in worrisome discussions about talking back with one’s teeth. I’m writing this piecemeal, since Darcy’s demands also ate my blog post. But hang in there, check back this afternoon (PDT: UTC-7); it’ll be a wild ride.
Timor Mortis Conturbat Me
Sunday morning,...
Published on July 20, 2013 10:17