The mean reality of our condition

Or, I got a puppy!

I’ve seen the ballast carried by dog people, swinging wrapped in plastic at nonchalant arm’s length, as if they could divorce themselves from knowledge of its content. It’s an indisputable condition of ownership that one cleans up after one’s dog and lord help those who don’t hereabouts. This fact was the last barrier to fall before capitulation to Teddy’s charms. Hopefully my affection will expand commensurate with the size of his do-do, which is commendably tiny for now.

There seems to be a recurring theme to these blog posts which, in these extraordinarily challenging times, seems irrelevant to the mean condition of our reality (note the nifty transposition there).