Joe and I were in the middle of an intimate moment last night when he got up, put on his robe and left the room. I lay there for a bit, puzzled as to what to do, then dressed and went upstairs to find him serving himself some ice cream. "I think my blood sugar is low," he said. "Good night." He patted my shoulder as he went back downstairs. And that was that.
Bad thing number two: Our new puppy bolted out the door as I left for work. It took a bit of a while to get him back in. He did not want to come; he twisted and clawed and bit at my hand as I held his collar which broke at the fastener. Somehow I managed to entice him in; I don't even remember how. I do remember being furious and stomping around the house yelling while he lay cautiously under the table. I threatened to take him to the Humane Society where he should have been anyway.
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