Today is a typical Sunday in hot, humid Durham. Walking the dogs is somewhat trying on days like this. One would think they would not want to spend any more time in the sauna-like outdoors than necessary, but alas this is not the case. Both canines are often seemingly unaffected by the blazing heat, while I increasingly wither and melt with each step. Zoe in particular must smell every inch of the landscape, stop to gawk at any passersby, and should there be any other four-legged creature within 100 yards, she loses it. Think squealing, furry, miniature pig with super-human strength. It is very embarrassing. Very. In fact, I've noticed other dog-walkers (namely those with whom we've crossed paths before) turn on their heels with warp speed at the sight of us approaching. Hey, maybe it's me, but for my ego's sake I blame Zoe.
This unwelcome photo was taken on the sly late this morning, but it does illustrate at least part of my average Sunday. Naps are required preparation for Mondays.
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