Plan F

Plan A:
I thought I was traveling today.

Reality:
Looks like I am not traveling today.

Plan B:
I will practice perfecting the art of rolling my eyes heavenward while smiling and working on Plan C.

Plan C:
Plan B might be too complicated.

Plan D:
I am trying to accept that my brain is running 100 miles per hour (160 kmph) but the body is only doing 10 miles (16 kmph) per hour. Maybe out of 89 things to do on my list today, I will be lucky to get 3 of them done to completion.

Plan E:
Maybe none.

Plan F:
Forget the F-ing plan.

Perhaps my doggy is picking up on my habits of finding useful things to repurpose for a budget minded life.

That's a polite way to say "dumpster diving".

If Harley finds something abandoned that he thinks is useful, he brings it home.

Where does he learn this?

Surely not from me...

We were playing Frisbee toss-and-fetch in a field near a campground where the ranger said Harley could run wild and free. Suddenly Harley lost interest in the Frisbee because he found something. He worried it mightily until he tore into the side of it so he could carry it home in his tiny mouth.

Oh joy.

I declared the filthy thing an "outside" toy and forbade him to bring it inside.

For days now he has been thrilled to play with his coveted "found" baseball outdoors.

Last night, fast asleep in my own little bed, I rolled over. Something hard and lumpy jarred me awake.

It was the dirty baseball.

In my bed!

Apparently my naughty little canine dog snuck that thing inside the wheel estate when I wasn't looking. Being that my bed (well his bed he shares with me) has all those pillows we crave and well the mini brat buried his treasure under a side pillow (thinking I might not notice).

Life is goof.

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