Dogsitting

Charlie and I are doggie sitting Harriet, my friend's Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix. She is as cute as a button, but after cleaning up poop and pee on the floor at 3:30 in the morning, I won't be too sad when she goes.

She's a barker, which Charlie isn't. It's weird how used to one's dog a person gets. Even walking them out on the street is different. Charlie meanders along, never tugging on his leash, smelling everything, checking it all out. Harriet is all business, looking back at me as if to say "Com'on, what's the delay? There's something right ahead, I just know it!"

They both jump all over me when I get home, and there's nothing to make me feel better than being appreciated.

The pictures below I just took. I think there might be heroin in that rawhide, the way Harriet is going at it. Although, Charlie doesn't seem the least bit interested in his. Maybe he's just being strong.

I don't have much to talk about. Same old same old.

Oh yeah, I've now gone over 35 pounds. 35.4 lost to be exact. None of my clothes fit. Clothes I bought two sizes smaller when I first started losing weight are now too big. I'll have some altered, but most aren't worth it. I'm a bit concerned about my Paris trip. Honestly, I have one pair of jeans, and two pairs of dress pants left that fit me. Dresses and skirts are better, but the temperature over there this time of year hovers between 40 and 50 degrees. Not terrible, but not bare leg weather either.

I don't want to buy new clothes either; I still have another 35 pounds to go. On the other hand, my mother told me I looked like a sharecropper (not that there's anything wrong with being a sharecropper) the other day when I was wearing my far-too-large overalls.

ah well, it's interesting having this be a problem.

What to do, what to do?