Tis that kind of day, today. So blazing is the sun that the puppies can hardly stand to be on the deck; they’d prefer instead, to bask on the cool register in the floor, sucking up the airconditioning prior to it ever reaching the rooms. They are restless, pacing endlessly between upstairs and down, lying first on one register, then another, in a bid for comfort, as well as nearness to moi. Lucy is whining, incessantly over nothing, as she too will depart with this evening amid the general confusion required when getting all four children out of this house in one fell swoop. The dog food’s at the ready, the badmitten set, with it’s birdie preched on the table, next to the board games, go fish card game, ps2, leapster and bee-pack of movies; nearly all of H’s clothes can be washed in just two loads of laundry - which honestly, strikes me as quite odd, as I’m doing so much flipping laundry, it cannot possibly all be mine.

And Gauge? Up. My. Ass.

I’ve yet to turn around and not find him wedged in my backside, his nose firmly pressed to my thighs, his tail wagging, his entire body trembling in his desire to crawl into me, and stay there. Or claw me. Either one. Horace, mopingly in search of The Coolest Register is driving me batty, but for different reasons - he’s managed to lie atop the folded pile of jammies and Whatnot that needs to go (the Maybe Needed Just Barely Fitting Jeans, the Could Be Cold Enough For Sweats with the holes in the knees, the Too Tight Jams That Are Totally Necessry) into the case, but he’s snagged them into a nest, fit just for a king.

Need I mention I just retreived them from the dryer, where they exited fur-free? I suppose not. He’s going to be with his dad, at Fish Camp, so my guess is, they’ll be fur (and heaven only knows what else) covered within minutes of his arrival, and I might as well just keep the new toothbrush and paste. I don’t see it coming home used. But I can hope.

Perhaps, if I put off packing, I can successfully put off H’s departure; I doubt it, but it’s worth a try. Then again, if I do that, then I have to put up with B being here while I finish up.

Perish the thought.