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This is nice. I’m at my computer in my small white and dark purple home office, my belly full of Geoff’s wickedly good meatloaf, window open. It’s raining and cool, but not cold. Just right. Murry is sleeping against the door. Squirt is curled, head tucked into paws, on the raggedy recliner next to my desk, the one with half its buttons missing. I can hear Geoff and Celeste laughing, but can’t make out what they’re saying. Sounds like something about who got it the last time and getting the paper towels. I suspect the pup is involved.
Nice.
