I am back in Portland, after what was an unnecessarily harrowing trip down the freeway; two sections of I-5 were under construction, and Sexy Sadie was having none of it. Rather than putter along with the rest of the masses, she did the thing where she pretended she was going to break down, acting as though she were tired. I anthropomorphize my car not just because she has a name and I'm one of those people, but also because frankly she was acting like a spoiled teenager who just didn't want to be stuck in line.
Okay. Maybe I am one of those people.
Now I am back in G-Face's house, with the d-o-g-s representing for the hood, and staring me down like I have a pork chop in my pocket. It's only a matter of time before the farting starts. And when the farting starts, I will start remembering all the reasons I don't have pets. Most of them are smell related.
And now that I am back in Portland, it seems--oh Lord, may it more than seem--that summer is here to stay. Here's hoping.
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