A young Hispanic guy rang my doorbell this afternoon. I was expecting Ashley, from the SPCA, who was going to bring me more puppy formula, so I went to the door, even though I was in the middle of feeding Weasley. I wonder what this guy thought. Here's this fat lady in shorts and t-shirt (no bra) standing there with fly-away hair (I don't think I brushed my hair this morning) with sweat dripping down her face ('cause it's 102 outside). In the yard Sheila is barking her head off, Kimba ran out to greet the guy, who backed down the driveway, afraid she'd attack him. I have this fat, squirmy puppy over my arm and behind me two more puppies are yapping.
I don't think I want to think about what the total picture must have been. The term "trailer trash" does come to mind!!! (All I needed was a cigarette hanging out my mouth and a beer in the other hand!)
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