The sanitation engineers are here--dead armadillo cleanup on aisle seven.
With no prompting or hullabaloo, Izzy is eating her supper. On time. To the bottom of the dish.
So, great. After months of trying to get her to understand the schedule, she gets it for once--and tomorrow I'm going to change it . Maybe I won't. If yahoo maps is right and that Anime festival turns out to really only be an hour drive from here, maybe I'll come home in the afternoon; jog; walk and feed the dogs; and then go back. It's not like there's anything there I want to do.
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