They say a dog’s nose inhales information the way people read. So when I see Moon sniffing, I figure he’s perusing the books of other dogs.
It took a while for me to get used to posting pictures of myself, but I quickly learned that people will scroll past blocks of text. I’m a writer. I don’t exist if you don’t read me.
Life meanders politely, eyes meet, pleasantries are exchanged, civilization is tamped down to a well worn path. Odors rise unremarked. No fart jokes in a church basement, nothing obtrusive. Just adults mixed with sugar.
Where does a woman’s self-satisfaction come from if her main criteria for success in life is being half of a couple?