I've been thinking I'll recap Top Chef this season and finding it a bit impossible. We don't have cable anymore, so I've been watching it on the computer the next day. (How I long for cable! Every single week without fail spoil Mad Men for myself, like ten different ways.) My old recaps were, as someone kindly said, "Rife with grammatical and factual errors" since I usually wrote them the next morning at 6am before work in a coffee-induced hysteria, but at least they had a certain energy. Now I'm just sort of tired from walking the dog.
The puppy has induced a sort of torpor combined with a lackadaisical sort of alcoholism: I really, really want that cocktail but am too lazy to make it. Luckily Travis has perfected my jam, the from-scratch whiskey sour. I remember in one of the early months of having Prancyd, when he would bark and bite and howl and be generally adorably horrible, picking up 2 enormous bottles of gin and whiskey on the way home because I seriously could not face my little beast without a cocktail. In this picture you can see basically all our possessions piled on the surfaces he couldn't reach. He can reach them all now.
Now we've turned into that dog couple. All we do is talk to each other about how cute he is. I' m horrified that this post has turned into a post about my puppy but am not even surprised at this point.