The dogs in the pictures are SD's Squeak (with the baby) and Robster's Luke (by the fence). The cat is just a funny waiting cat. The writing is about me. mememe. Me! Just because I can. Heh.
It's a lovely day here, with a mellow autumn sun looking kindly at the riot of red and yellow leaves and late-flowering stalwart flowers. And I have washed eight windows of the total of thirty or so. The difference is astonishing, which reminds me, once again, of how fun cleaning can be, but only when the space is really dirty to begin with. It's not much fun to move the eyebrowful of dust around once a week, but if you relax and wait long enough there will be enough doghair to build an igloo and the cleaning can be quite catharctic. So that's the new recommendation: Let the dirt pile up first.
I just had lunch consisting of some cold macaroni-and-cheese with coffee. I pretended it was a cheese sandwich. The ingredients are fairly close, in any case. The next household chore on my list will have to be to shop for some food. Did I tell you how much I hate shopping?
In other news, I still worry and fret about the proper number of explicitly feminist posts on this blog. I sometimes feel that I'm letting those readers down who come here expecting a lot of feminist writing. It is there, but more in the angle I take to all sorts of topics. Maybe it would be better for me to shut down on that other stuff and to focus on feminism. Specialization. I hate it.