Unfortunately, my camera battery died while I was uploading all the old pictures I hadn't put up yet, and so now I can't take any new pictures. I could share photos of an empty apartment, but that's hardly any fun. I'll charge up the battery tonight, and y'all will have something to look at tomorrow. But I will give you a preview.
This room has a view:
And this is not where the horses are kept, though it could be where the "spirits" are stored. Just don't mess with the gunslingers who hang out here:
And this is my dog:
You actually get a funny story with the dog picture this time. See, the week after moving in and retrieving Bennet from Galveston, was surprisingly busy. I kept myself working almost constantly, whether it was applying for professional positions, walking around downtown with a stack of resumes in hand, or taking Bennet to the dog park.
The first day she was scared to bits. It was her first day in Austin, and she'd spent most of the morning hiding under my bed with the saddest eyes you ever could see. So late that afternoon I put her in the car, and we drove up to Riverside. It was a little after business hours, and the place was packed - dogs of all shapes, sizes, and colors were running around the field and trails. Bennet, however, spent most of the hour we were there sitting on the stone wall next to me, occasionally whining slightly because she kind of wanted to play, but not really.
When we went back two days later, I was surprised to see her jump right in with the pack. Except when the pack was diving into the river after tennis balls and other various chase-able items. She'd stop short at the edge of the water, barely daring to tip her nose over the edge, lest she fall in. After a while, she finally tiptoed into the shallowest area, barking at the swimmers retrieving their catch from the middle of the river, but refusing to follow.
So I had an idea.
It was a mean idea.
But I was curious.
What would happen if I just sort of, um, pushed her in?
I found out, let me tell you. What happens is that puppy-face becomes cranky-face, who panics and scrambles to get out of the water, then runs pell-mell back and forth across the trail until finally she throws herself on the gravel and rolls around until she turns brown.
Brown and crispy, as a matter of fact, after just a few minutes under the hot sun.
Hence the photo, taken immediately prior to bath time (which she hates). Please note my new white bathroom mat, now not-so-white.
And after surveying the wreckage of my bathroom...
...I vowed to take Bennet to a self-serve dog wash next time. Which happened yesterday.
I'm not actually sure what's better: perpetual dirt in my bathtub (I still can't get it all to go away) or paying $16 for someone else to clean up the mess. Really, as long as she's clean and I'm happy, I don't care.
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