
I love sleeping with the dog. Waking up with the dog. Every night I take a bath. She knows it’s close to bedtime. She waits on the bed. Susannah’s in New York this week. I gotta move to our new house. Moving is like a death. Your own death by a bad disease. The memories and feelings in the house welling up while you fight transactions bills work money logistics man up etc.etc. Lifting heavy boxes in the heat and crude workmen barking while you want to sit and cry sifting through letters from the dead.
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