The morning routine begins as the sun comes up. We open all of the windows, then squeegee the condensation off the inside
The joys of single-pane windows.
Hubs opens the door and both pugs tumble out for their morning business. Not too long after, he comes back holding Murray, trailed by Otis. After Otis had peed on a shrub, Murray tried to pee on the same thing, but instead jabbed his eyeball on a stick, then got a thorn in his foot.
Fortunately, we are practically a rolling pug pharmacy thanks to their frequent mishaps, and I have just the stuff to keep Murray's eyeball from becoming infected.
I am beginning to suspect that I have spiders living in my head, because this is the second morning in a row that I have found a teensy spider dangling from a thread stuck to my nose. Or maybe I just keep walking through their silk threads strung between the trees. I am really hoping it is the latter.
Tiny spiders I can deal with. It is the big ones (i.e. any larger than a marble) that I fear and loathe. It is not something I can think my way out of, either. I can sit and contemplate how intricate that spider is and how fragile the shimmering web. I know that I am about a billion times bigger than it and can squash it without trouble, but if that thing shows up where I am not expecting it, the whole county can hear my shriek.
What's the deal, brain? I let you read sci-fi books and this is how you repay me?
HOTDOGS. YOU FED ME HOTDOGS.
So this is some kind of revenge thing?
YUP. BUT I HAVE SOMETHING YOU NEED TO SEE.