This morning I walked dog just a little, down the block to even with H__s’ and back. Poor dog was limping (or bunny -hopping, when he wanted to move quicker) on his ACL-repaired right rear leg, maybe because of him running hard when I sprayed him yesterday.
So, I keep thinking about the idea, the possibility, of moving to Boulder (“Bolder,” I’ve been spelling it lately). And maybe I get a bit intense/obsessive about this because it—this issue of where to live—is something I got over but fretted about for a long time (does the word “fretted” convey obsession? As when I say that the dog fretted (kept licking) his legs last evening until I gave him the blue licky-treats holder with a new domed-circle treat in it, and then he fretted—”worried,” also, is used here—the licky toy).
So, yeah, maybe this question of where to live is something I have in mind a lot of time. That would explain why I even would describe vacation to F____ as a place I wouldn’t wanna live (maybe—probably—I shouldn’t have said that in front of J____ on our last day together. Saying criticisms of F____ comes across maybe as political—in the politics between J___ and D____).
And anyway, we’re not going anywhere, what with my tenure and M’s office and all.
[From journal of Sunday, 16 August 2015, Journal 213, page 167-9]
MonkeyMoonMachine 