That’s Sunday

One of the dogs has a moderately dramatic digestive disruption, so Margaret got less sleep last night than would be ideal. We woke up together, I to run and she to clean up a puddle of puke and some gelatinous other dog by-product; she went back to sleep, and I run under light clouds, 14°, at an indulgent pace, and I tallied another two miles.

I came home, showered, breakfasted, corrected some typos in thos morning’s homily, and meandered down to Fairacres. We had Mass, the sisters prayed for Margaret and me in our housing… situation, home again, and I feel distinctly as though I’ve done enough for a day (though there is so much more to do as far as preparing to vacate the premises)….

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