Sunday morning

The dog decided at 6 o'clock this morning that she needed to go out. I got up, put on robe and slippers, picked up the dog and carried her downstairs, put her out, checked to make sure she was accomplishing something, coaxed her back up the icy steps outside, and carried her back up to bed.

At 7, she decided she needed to do the whole thing again. And again at 8:30. Since the alternative is an accident in the bedroom, I obliged her. Reluctantly. You may wonder why I didn't just get up and stay up the first (or second) time she got me out of bed. The answer is that Sunday is the ONE day I get to sleep in, and dammit! I really wanted to this morning. Fail.

But...

I am sitting at my computer, alternately reading and writing; I have a large cup of coffee at my elbow; I am listening to the glorious sounds of Audra MacDonald singing in "110 in the Shade"; the sun is just reaching the fence in the backyard and the smell of fried apples is filling the air. Soon there will be bacon and Scottish oatmeal. I guess there are worse ways to spend a Sunday morning.