Superbowl Sunday

My dog tapped me on the shoulder to wake me this morning, alerting me to her desire to piss in the leafy ground covering that separates my apartment complex from my neighbors'. I got out of bed and my dog led me to the back door. She escaped outside on a short leash, looking for a spot to piss on. I stayed behind. I was unfit for public presentation and half awake. Someone said hi to me, I think. I don't find it appropriate for neighbors to acknowledge folks when they're trying to hide, so I ignored her and hoped she'd learned her lesson. When I was fully awake and my dog content, I decided to wash a couple of loads of stinky clothes. These clothes are made stinky from the damn skunk that lives under the building. But that's another story. I fell asleep while folding the first load of clean clothes. I woke two hours later and found another lady in the laundry room. She had taken my clothes out of the dryer. I apologized. I knew it would be a bit much to explain that I'm usually extraordinarily conscious of these things. She said she wanted to get her stuff clean and get out of there. Later I remembered it was Superbowl Sunday and that she was probably off to a party to get happy. Football makes me lose my appetite.