this morning #768.

this morning, my wife was already out on the porch with her mug of tea, sorting out how we were going to pull off hosting this month’s salon. i was taking my time inside, making toast for us to munch on while we worked. no rush. she likely had a handle on things anyhow. there were likely already charts. this sunday, ten of the town’s most influential figures would assemble in our home. last month’s salon was an utter disaster, devolving into chaos after a pug got free & shat right in the middle of what had been quite the engaging debate. come to think of it, the stink of that clinker meant the bar for success was set pretty low. as long as nobody suddenly shat, we’d be just fine.