I have an Instagram account, and somehow I lost the password. Which is endlessly frustrating to me. Because of stuff like this. THIS.
Perfect. This is outside our bedroom window, but it is closer to our neighbor’s front door. And since our neighbors sometimes keep us up late with inane prepubescent screeching, I am in love with whomever let their dog squirt this little trifle onto a perfect pillow of landscaping right outside their door.
On a related note, I miss writing. I miss writing on this blog. I miss being able to formulate coherent thoughts. I miss my brain in general. I have lots to say, lots we’ve learned, and so much to document as the boys grow and develop. I am kicking myself for not finding the time to write it all down. I am already regretful that these moments are breezing by, and I’ll look back and wonder why I didn’t try harder to get it all down.
When I get the odd fifteen minutes or half hour when both boys might be asleep, I run to shower, or eat, or pump, or I sit and zone out like a zombie from just being overwhelmed. I don’t have long, leisurely moments of quiet where I might formulate words and write an actual story. It pains me.
But taking photos of dog shit? I have time for that.