Not much happening stitching wise. I am coming down with a head cold. It makes it hard for me to concentrate on things. I'm not sick, but I'm not well. I wear a nose strip at night because I gasp snore, and the stupid things don't stick well (yet still manage to leave a goo that doesn't come off unless you scrub really hard, even toner doesn't take it off). This morning, I realized the thing wasn't on my nose, but I figured it was stuck on the bed, so I went about my merry, bleary way, let the dogs out, went to brush my teeth. I found the strip, y'all. In. My. Hair. Right at my temple. And shockingly, non-gooey. It makes no sense.
So, pleased at my gooless start to the day and happy that my headcold has still not totally manifested itself (I don't function well when I am really sick), I finished getting ready for work. I headed outside to talk to the boys. They look forward to our morning, stepmother to step-furbaby talk; so do I. They insist they will do their best to take care of their daddy when he's home and they're in charge. And that they love me, that I am fascinating, and kind, and beautiful (they flatter). I tell them they are the best boys, and the nicest pittybulls ever (I flatter too). Anyway, I get my kisses, I give them pets, and get the same back. One swipes me across the arm.
That darn Shocka . . . He was outside 10 minutes, 15 minutes ar most. He has a slight drool issue. OK, maybe not slight. Maybe . . . the dog drools like a faucet. His brother does not. But it should take at least a half hour for the drool spigot to start working, right? Apparently, not so, because, after I get to work, and am in sunlight, I look at my left arm, the one he swiped his mouth across, and I see a line of dried GOO across my sleeve. And, as if to add insult to injury, there was a piece of chewed grass STUCK to my shirt. I always tell SO we have a pig and a cow. The pig is Beazer because he snorts like a pig, and the cow is Shocka because he is black and white, has big soft eyes. So was he trying to be a cow by eating grass? Crazy dog . . .