The Long and Breakless Day

I'm at work as I write this, and not enjoying it very much. Robbie is out for the rest of the week. He got a baby kitten last night, and has named her Bullock. He's staying home for a few days to take care of her, and get her acclimated to her new surroundings.

Wait for it... wait for it...

He's out on caternity leave!

Bill's out in the field. We three are all that's left of the Three-Martini Break Group. Oh, there are a few emergency back-up members, but I don't really count them. I'll go to break without Robbie or without Bill, but without both? Forget it.

How did I ever get through the workday without three-martini breaks?

At least there's the lunchtime walk on the hike-and-bike to break up the day. It's lovely out, though summer begins to rear its fevered head. And you catch the most interesting snippets of conversation from other people. "Elective dog surgery," a man was shouting into his cell phone just as I passed.

Band name!

Many of the joggers have dogs in tow. Sometimes literally, in the case of a few of the smaller dogs, which are clearly not ASPCA-rated for use at that speed. Most of the joggers call cheerful encouragement to their pets: "Here we go! Good boy! All right!" But one man was barking orders like a drill sergeant. "Get GOING, dog! Come ON!! MOVE YOUR ASS!!!"

I just don't understand dog people.

Oooh! Robbie just texted me to tell me that Bullock had her first poopy in the litter box. He's very excited. He took a picture.

Maybe next week I can get him to bring her to break!