me and Molly, the day I first picked her up from the shelter.
Interestingly, after four freaking months all of the twelve or so people working at the shelter who were there on Sunday immediately recognized Molly - by name, no less - and made a huge fuss over her, how well she was looking (what, you thought I was gonna bring her back half-eaten or something?), etc. Yes, my dog is fucking ADORABLE. Also, turns out that the shelter sells heartworm meds directly for dogs adopted from there, which is AWESOME because they're selling the meds at $15/6 months, instead of the $60-$90/6 months that most vets are. And they'll cheerfully mail them to you, which is good, since the shelter is about an hour to an hour and a half away.
I also ended up visiting a furniture outlet while I was there. Manning basically only has two things going for it: Molly, and a shitload of outlet stores. And I took Molly, so that just leaves the stores. But anyway, I've been having a freaking TERRIBLE time finding a decent dinette set; everything at the stores in town is generally this horrible baroque CRAP that makes me cringe; random little bits of brass trim everywhere, weird patterns, little glass insets for no apparent reason, etc. A brotha cannot, apparently, get a nice, plain, elegant table without tons of ornate crap on it unless a brotha is willing to 1. spend upwards of $1000 and b) seat, like, twelve. Fuck that.
So I decided to stop in at the furniture outlet while I was down there, and sure enough, matters were much better there. I started to get a simple natural oak finish rectangular 4-seat table with chairs, but I ended up upselling myself to a 45" rounded-square glass top table with 4 very pale stone/green parson's chairs. Which I THINK will look fucking awesome in my cream-and-white kitchen... but I'm a little worried about the chairs. The TABLE will look great, the chairs... will either look really great, or really oh-god-take-those-in-the-backyard-and-bu
If anybody gives a damn (
In completely unrelated news, remember the first date that ended in a towing? Well, if life were high school literature classes, teenagers would be rolling their eyes right now as the teacher tried to explain foreshadowing as a literary device. =)