It rained the other day. There are dogs. Dogs go outside in the rain. Dogs don't like to stay outside in the rain, tho. So they stand up and put their paws on the doors.
Therefore, the glass-inlaid back doors look like some sort of Jackson Pollock inspired etched glass art piece.
Now to find the sucker who'll pay me $1M for their avant avant-guardness. Or should we call this post dada-ist sentient being expressionism? Or, progressivist paw painting? I'm running out of art forms to make fun of here. But it's more fun than thinking about cleaning the glass.
Uggh.
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I ran for 13 minutes the other day. Tuesday, to be exact. It was just longer than one mile and I did it on a treadmill, inside, while I was waiting for a phone call or two. The significance of this singular mile is that it's the first since the right ankle got sprained. You'll remember this, perhaps, as it happened six weeks to the day when my left ankle got sprained. It was my big attempt to go out for that "first" run after six weeks of rest and rehab. Luckily I have not injured anything else. I do have a pretty raw throat and congested lungs - but it's not becoming anything too debilitating, yet, so hopefully it will vanish in another day or two. Then, maybe, I'll try running two miles and see how badly the muscles/tendons/vessels in my lower extremities have atrophied (as if it could get any worse!).
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I need to manicure my finger nails.
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