We’re driving to the gym. Pull over, Mo advises. This can’t be good.
We’re stopping at a place called Second Hand Rose. Mo goes in with her wallet. Payback for eating her ice cream.
She comes out with an old eggbeater. On sale, she assures me. 25 percent off. I’m thinking 25 percent off a made-up price, but, oh well. She shows me that it still works, although it doesn’t quite make an entire revolution. I guess if we ever want barely scrambled eggs, we’re in business.
Sometimes I think my relationship with Mo is like a dog and a person. The dog doesn’t really understand the person at all, but that’s OK. As long as Mo lets me pees on stuff and rubs my belly occasionally, I’m good.
Running was fine. I apparently have broken treadmill no. 4. Probably a sign to run outside, but the 63 degree weather is still pretty harsh.
11:30s are feeling pretty comfy. A good sign. AND we have an eggbeater. Life is good. Although I could use a good belly rub …
