Miro doesn't like to go outside by himself, even after breakfast in the morning when you'd think the need was urgent. I shove him outside and he sits there, staring in until he decides his utterly selfish and lazy mom would rather prepare her coffee than accompany him outside to praise him for doing his business.
I didn't mind occasionally sauntering outside during this perfect summer of fine days, mild in the morning and never scorching-hot in the afternoon, but standing on the patio while the dog sniffs around won't be so fun when it's pouring rain and I'm dressed for work. The weather is changing now. I saw it coming last week when I took Miro for a walk at sundown. The pink and gold streaks in the sky cast a gold light over everything, from sidewalk to flowers to trees.
It's raining now. So, where am I going for my first real vacation in years? To an even rainier place--Dublin, home of great literature. Miro will stay home with my son to look after him. Like a little kid at camp, he'll go two weeks without brushing his teeth or trimming his nails or brushing his hair--a happy slob.