Sunday, August 9, 2009
It's been said that I pay the mortgage and the dogs just let me live here. When I look around my house there is evidence of of teens (lots of clothes, why do they think the entire house is their closet?), evidence of me (lots of stacks of paperwork and bills, a half consumed glass of red wine) and then the dogs. Lots of squeeeeeeky toys, balls of fur, muddy paw prints and chew bones on every piece of furniture. When I visit other people's houses I envy how sparkly clean and organized they are. Then I look around; no dogs. I can imagine what life would be like without them (cleaner) but less joy. I'll take messy joy.