Let the dog in!

A new record. I should call Ripley’s or Guiness (for a beer, you say? yes!). Suffice it to say, Kid drank a lot of juice today, and milk, and stupid me, in a fit of boredom at home on a long, dark, rainy afternoon, real hot chocolate. I’ll skip over step two, except to note that there seems to be a couple of varieties of “accidents” — which to me are becoming more like those mafia-related “accidents.” The basic form involves her clothes getting soaked in the process. The more advanced form involves her removal of clothes and then inappropriate activity. This latter form appears to include a certain mature level of revenge or spite tossed in, as far as I can tell. Perhaps I take it personally.

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