One Sunday afternoon, I decided to sit on the back porch to blog and write in my journal.
I had been feeling funky (allergies were kicking my proverbial butt, and my real one, too!) but thought I just needed some “outside time.”
Out I went, in my pajamas. I grabbed a blankie, my iPhone, my MacBook. ThatManILove had brought me a chai tea latte.
I was set.
And then, something I read flung a craving upon me...for an orange.
I unwrap, pad into the kitchen, grab an orange. Peel it.
I look down.
Zack is drooling, Zanna looking all expectant.
Yup.
I pad back to my chair. Wrap all back up in my blankie. Computer on my lap. Get all set.
I look left of my chair, where I am so wonderfully ensconced.
Zack is drooling, Zanna looking all expectant. Again. What part of this did they not get? Grrrrrrrr.
It turns out that they’re orange-tarians.
But at least they sit while they’re getting their treats.
I lost a full half of my orange to them. My weirdo, fruitfly dogs.
