Greenville woke up this morning to its first sub-60-degree overnight low of the season. Saints be praised. To celebrate, Acadia and I retired to the dog park for a few hours, me reading another Erik Larson book (Thunderstruck) and she reconnoitering the underbrush. We don’t count the first 15 minutes that she spent hiding inside my backpack.
I’m doing nothing constructive today because the last three weeks have been projects upon projects and too little downtime. We all should be taking our cats to the dog park more often and staying there until our bladders force us to make other arrangements.