What to write, what to write... Brian is sitting across from me, type-type-typing away, and I, the writer of this fearless pair, am stuck. I'm debating. Shall I share a childhood memory with this (mostly) imaginary readership... or something more immediate? But what's happening immediately? Uuuuuuuuuum, I'm drinking some wine? And watching Brian type? Yes. Riveting. I'm aware.
I'm clicking the keys because I feel like something's there. More accurately, I feel like something SHOULD be there. But godammit - the dogs are making a lot of noise. I mean, honestly, does faux-battle require THAT much growling?!?!? And jumping!??!?!
I guess what I'm saying is: I'm fussy. Annoyed by the noise of the animals (human and otherwise) that I love. I'm fussy because I'm things, writing-type-things, are supposed to be flowing freely and they're just stuck with nary a day job in sight to assign the blame.
Grr. I thought this blog was about the funny. Not about the fussy.