There are days when I hate to walk alone.
Yesterday became one of those days. I didn't bring Inigo out on a walk because of the temperature. Keeshonds are absolutely adorable dogs, but they also have huge furry coats and can suffer from heat exhaustion. The last time I walked Inigo, alone which means about half again faster than Fluffy, he got so hot that I saw drool pouring out of his mouth. When he got home, he pretty much collapsed. When it gets hotter, I can't walk with him, not and feel that he will be safe.
Fortunately, Fluffy walks him in the morning, where it is cooler.
Unfortunately, Inigo doesn't understand the connection between so hot that he almost collapses and walking outside. So, five minutes after staggering home, he is ready to go again. Pretty, but not so bright.
That means I walked alone.
It gives me a chance let my mind wander. Which usually means thinking about some story I'd really like to write if I wasn't walking. Actually, it was nice, I got to work out the entire plot and realize that, somewhere around chapter 15, I simply couldn't get it to work. That is the nice part of walking, getting to work out those story ideas and filter out the ones that won't.
The hard part is when I get a story I want to write. Like Flight of the Scions, Peg and Sue, and everything else. Ideas get ironed out faster than I can write them. Then again, I always had that problem, so I can't honestly blame college, exercising, or anything else. In fact, it just seems to be who I am.
I have a busy weekend planned. I'm late on my major homework and I need to compress 38+ pages down to 20 or so, plus include my own work. I also need to do all that icky lawn stuff, get more boxes out of the garage, repair the electrical on two outlets, and finish my commission. It is also the weekend we are celebrating our anniversary.
I really, really need to finish that commission.
What else does a boy need?