What’s there to do on a Sunday afternoon besides watch crappy TV, sex, or drink? I’m not quite sure but I’m hooked on Spaten. Good hops and it goes down so nice. Ha. Sunday afternoons always depresses me; it makes perfectly clear how boring my life is. It’s raining outside and there’s nothing to do except to settle down with a good book. Perhaps that’s what it is. Since I started work, everything has been so sedentary. I’m either sitting at work or sitting at a restaurant or sitting at home. Sit. But really. And now that it’s the middle of winter, daylight fades fast and at night who wants to be active outside? A run through Central Park at night isn’t exactly thrilling. I’m restless. Restless and not very good company since everyone is annoying. Bah. I guess sex is activity. But damm, I do miss hiking and oh, the feeling you get on a road trip, all tingly, opening car doors and running towards something you’ve never seen before. I want a basset hound. Oh man, I think I can just pick up one of those fat, wrinkly, droopy faced (slobber and all) dogs and love him silly. We’ll have walks – him on dumpy short waddly legs – and I’ll let him romp and chase squirrels (those varmints) and he’ll sniff and sniff and smell everything and it’ll be awesome. Of course, when I’m writing or reading he’ll be there, plopped on the bed sleeping, or when he’s really excited, pop his head up and give me a sad stare. Except his tail will be wagging (thwap thwap thwap) and I know he’s happy. Brown and white and I’ll make up a cool name for him. Like Nefarious or something cause one look at him and you’ll just laugh cause he’s the most lovable dog you’ll see. Oh, and of course he’s a stud cause he’ll attract all the chicks. Yeah. And I’ll say things like, “Dude, Nerf, your breath stinks” and thwap thwap he’ll lick my hands and go “Aahooooo…” and go pee on a tree. Or something. And on those lazy summer days when I’m not working, we’ll just have a nap in the park, but not after he has rolled around in the grass and bark at smaller dogs (just for fun). Then he’ll sit his fat butt next to mine and I’ll look up at the blue sky and he’ll look at the stupid pigeons, eyes between his paws, cause they’re silly little things. Oh you may think I’m just imagining things but you’ll see.