Monday, September 27

Where's a talking insect when you need one?

This morning, Leigh gave me the best thank-you gift, the Ultimate Dirty Dancing soundtrack. Yes, that's right, all 26 songs from the film in the order they appeared. Will "These Arms of Mine" be on constant repeat? Hell, yes.

It was a truly thoughtful present, but now I am plagued with guilt. Because what I did to earn the thank-you was done in a manner truly unbecoming an officer. I watched the Midgie last week whilst Leigh was at various classes and then again whilst Leigh fought off hideous malaise. When I went to return the puppy to her rightful owner, I got lost on the way there. I hate Newton. For some reason, I'm never able to make it out of that area alive. Stick me in the middle of Boston? Fine. Stick me in the middle of Newton-I-have-20-villages? Utter chaos. By the time I arrived at Leigh's lovely home in Watertown, I was less than pleased. My car was overheating, I was frustrated, and I really wanted to kill someone. I unceremoniously dumped the dog on sick Leigh and took off. Poor Leigh was in no way at fault here, obviously. I love watching Ada. She's the cutest, most wee dog around.

I suspect my friends are used to it by now, but my temper gets the best of me far too easily and I show flashes of irritation more readily than I should. But I don't really want my friends to get used to my faults; I'd prefer to just not have any.

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