Another Walk

The little red wagon is back in working order. It wasn't too cold out and the wind wasn't howling, so we ventured to town to get the mail.

As I walked down the silent street I pondered why someone would choose to live here. Yes, I live here, but I didn't really choose it. I think many people choose to live here precisely for one of the reasons I don't like it: nothing happens here. It's quiet and sleepy and distraction-free. This also explains why most of the population seems to be over 60 years old.

On the way home, I had to correct myself about the nothing happens. The stupid yappy neighbor dog got out of its yard and chased us. I don't like strange dogs anyway, but our other neighbor had mentioned that they didn't trust that dog, so I had already worried about the possibility of it getting out. It eventually stopped coming after us, but not after getting my adrenaline up and preparing to kick it if it came anywhere near my child (sorry animal lovers, anything threatening my child is going to get a kick).

I sincerely hope the stupid dog doesn't get out again. Because if it does we're going to have to talk to the owner. I've only met his daughter and she was old, so this guy must be ancient and I think practically house-bound. But I also can't be made to feel like I can't safely leave my own house. Especially when walking to the post office is the only thing there is to do here.

On a lighter note, before the dog incident we stopped and admired a patch of snowdrops growing on the side of the road. My daughter even thought they were pretty enough to eat.