My dog is sad. The weather is beautiful but I’ve been in bed the past two days because I’m an American. If I’d been from Scotland, I would never have started talking to that nice young family on the ferry, let alone gotten in range of their adorable germ-spewing toddler. So I’ve been lying in bed for the past two days, watching submarines sailing by.
Submarine watching is an activity I embraced with great fervor as a California teenager parked in a remote car with an appropriately enthusiastic partner. As an older lady, sick in bed, with a depressed dog as company? Not so much.
When there are no submarines, I watch old eighties RomComs and cry, mostly at the thought that I once sported shoulder pads, big eyeglasses, even bigger hair. (The eighties were dark, dark fashion times…) The dog has been lying next to me in full-on Underfoot Moping Mode, one of…
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