Glamis the Wonder Dog Loves Her New Stomping Ground with Three New Windows, the Crandall Chair, and a New Rug to Shed Upon

Well, the electricity on the front porch went out already. I didn't catch it until yesterday afternoon when I wondered why my laptop wasn't charged and the lamp wouldn't turn on. I invited Chitunga to use the space last night when I was watching the Harvest moon rise and when I inquired he said, "Yeah. It was off last night, too. So I moved my work inside."

It's all good, though, because I contacted the contractor who contacted the electrician, who contacted me, and together we problem solved, finally resolving that it was the pain-in-the-ass arc fault breaker. That is, the breaker that I reset didn't reset, because there's also a test button that might have jammed, which was the final culprit. I was like three x's a charm, but it was the 4th thing we checked the worked. Long story short, I had light by the time the evening rolled around. And I read until 10 pm before Chitunga and I talked and I collapsed.

Yesterday, I had over 40 needles stuck directly into the red blotches of psoriasis on my leg that made me look like I had the plague this summer. My dermatologist agreed that Kenalog injections might be a good approach y, but said insurance would only cover 2 vials at a time ("I'll stick you in as many places as I can, Crandall"). I told him it felt like I stepped on a bee's nest and he swarmed my legs with stings. It was all good, though, because I got further in Tiffany Jackson's Grown, and knew I could finish it so decided to drive to a house in Westport to drop off some books to continue listening. When I returned to the porch, there was only 14-minutes left, so I listened, hoping that Jackson wouldn't twist me in the way she did with Allegedly. The twists were there, but they weren't the mind-frustrating ones I thought might be coming. Her book is phenomenal, and her author's note at the end was sharp, necessary, and poignant. She remains one of my favorite writers composing today.

Meanwhile, Glamis is mesmerized by all the new views and angles of the sidewalk and streets she is getting. At first, when she saw a squirrel or dog coming, she'd look at me then go to her perch in the bay window to bark. After a while, she figured it out. She could bark from the front porch, too, which she decided to do while laying at my feet. 

Okay, Saturday. We know nip is in the air and we have decisions to make on how to best spend the time. We're quickly moving into good books under a blanket season (and that is very, very tempting). But for today, the idea of walking to the beach and back while listening to Neil Shusterman's Scythe seems to be a top priority.