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My dog was on the couch with me until a minute ago when he, in a most ungainly fashion, got up and jumped off so that he could instead flop down on the nice cool wood floor.

He has a good life, my dog.

Not that you would ever know it from the absolutely pathetic, despondent look he gets the second we aren’t playing with him—in his ideal world he would spend the whole day running around keeping his bone away from someone who desperately wanted it. The fact that we usually show modest to no interest in his bone is a source of constant sorrow.

Writing notes: I’ve been working on a short story and working on writing up a critique but mostly I am waiting for feedback/allowing my manuscript to sit in the corner and think about what it has done wrong for a while. It is nice to have a break, though I always worry that a break will turn into an elongated slothfest*.

Reading notes: Finished The Last Detective. Really enjoyed and plan to read the rest of the trilogy. I do have a soft spot for mysteries with an unusual angle. Started Life Drawing. I bought it because the writer was on a panel that I went to at Printer’s Row and I thought she had interesting things to say about creativity and identity, and I’m enjoying the book so far. It is a nice example of the tension of starting off knowing some things about where the story is going to go but not how it is going to get there.

*Spellcheck does not like this word. Too bad, Spellcheck. You ain’t the boss of me.

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