I went to bed last night after writing the kind of blog post that never shall be posted, and today is a day that starts with standing in dogshit.
When I struggled out of bed this morning and walked out of the bedroom door, my bare foot met with something cold and squishy. Yep, I hadn't let the dogs out last night, thought Axel had done it. And then I didn't close the kitchen gate properly. So one of them (and I know which one, the evil little fucker) came and made a point, right outside my bedroom door.
This does not seem to be a good way to start the day, symbolically.