A Distinct Absence of Coldness...

I had a heart-stopping moment this morning when I got up. I opened the refrigerator door, and the light did NOT come on. There was no hum, there was no chill. My new refrigerator (well, almost new, definitely on the backside of the warranty) had failed. I puttered and pondered. The easiest thing would be if the circuit breaker tripped in the night. So, clomping downstairs, peering into the depths of the grey box, I found a breaker labelled "Kitch Out." The breaker was spongy, so I reset it and returned to find the fridge on and cranking away. Presumably, the same thing that had all the clocks in the house blinking had surged my icebox into conniptions.

I have not been blogging for the same reason. When it rains, my satellite internet connection has a spazz-out, making working on the computer a frustrating and annoying chore. Dial-up back-up is just as tedious. So I watch movies and read books instead. And it has been raining torrentially for the past week. Yesterday on my lunch hour chores for the library (bank, post office), I was soaked to the skin and had to go home and change clothes. I was so wet I felt like shaking like a dog when I walked in the door, dripping from head to toe.

Speaking of dogs, Bounder continues to improve, though his puppy-energy gives me pause at times. We're working on "not biting" as everything goes into the mouth, including my toes, my elbows and my nose. It's like having a toddler all over again.

As adorable and charmingly funny as he is, his presence makes me realize that I am still heartbroken over Echo's demise and death. It's not that Bounder suffers by comparison, it's simply that he is "not Echo." He is not familiar, we don't have years of shared games and routines, and he doesn't understand my ways--nor do I understand his. He may grow into a treasured, beloved friend, but right now, it's as though I am keeping my emotional distance to protect my heart, and keep Echo alive in my memory.

But really, how could you not love that face?