Low today, thought it might be the drab weather. Struggled to get up, and awfully tired all day. The day itself was bitty, got caught up at work when I needed to be elsewhere. Spent early evening working through some photos to prepare them for printing for a client, but really only displacement activity to put off going to the hated Sainsburys. Gave up and went.
Got back, fed the dog and noticed, with dismay, that he'd rolled in horseshit during the day. Too late to hose him down. Good supper of halibut, not from Sainsbury. Baked two loaves of sourdough. Went back to photos. Woke up at computer, looked at clock. Midnight.
Went to put the cork in the wine, and struggled to work out why it was still in the corkscrew, as it was a bottle I'd started last night, then realised I'd finished that one before opening this. All the more dismayed to see that most of it was gone, and some white from another fresh bottle too. And I was still in the supermarket at 8.20, with nothing more than a cup of tea inside me. Not good.
Let the dog out to do his thing.
Went to bed, and noticed much too late that I'd left the bedroom door open when I went out earlier. Sure enough, the bedroom reeked of horseshit, and there's a dirty, hairy, stinking, Labrador-shaped impression at exactly the spot where my head meets the pillow.
The dog hasn't come back. Now I remember that one of my sister's lab bitches is on song. She lives a couple of miles away. Texted her to call me when the dog gets there. Waiting for the call. There are several small, dark roads across the grain of those two miles. I hope the call comes.
There's a bloody rat in my wall, scratching scratching. Wide awake now.