Saturday, August 17, 2013

The 50-50 Closet

Couple things to catch you up. Last post was September 2011. Since then, I moved twice, we got our pup back (stupid no pet rentals), graduated with my Master's, started working fulltime (and overtime), and bought a house. The house needs some work and it's entertaining to say the least. And my dog is entertaining. He's a basset hound and his name is Shmue. Which rhymes with "blue." It's a silly way to spell the name Shmoo. Justin says he spelled his name "the French way." I told him the French way would be Shmoux.

I'm debating starting this blog again so that I don't forget how to write. I drown in data and figures everyday, I forget the power of words. I feel more disconnected from them now that my thesis is done. So I may do this casually but not tell anyone and see what happens.

Story time. We have an awkward closet in the hallway that is small and has a weird large concrete step in the middle of it. Why the step? What's it hiding? Is it the foundation? Is is to make the closet shorter? If I busted it open would I find a pair of feet in there? A beloved pet? What does it want from us!?

Anyway. We call it Shmue's 50-50 closet. Because the only things in the closet are the vacuum and his leash. What's gonna happen when we open the door, Shmue? Happy tail-wag ermahgerd smells and walk time? Or death machine of noisy horrible rolly-ness?!

Roll of the dice, Pups. Roll of the dice...

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