* The dogs assume you are NOT a booger-head who breaks your promises.
* You can freak out the mailman twice in one day. (Once as you leave the house with the dogs who think he’s lunch, and once as you encounter him at a random time during your walk with the dogs, who still think he’s lunch.)
* You can work out that lingering stiffness in your back and neck that comes from knitting for too long in front of the television.
* Self-righteousness works off at least a hundred extra calories. It’s like going swimming in the cold or running in the heat. You’re not just exercising, you’re suffering.
* The sound the rain makes as it hits the leaves, knocking the yellow ones a-fluttering to the sidewalk, is like fairies in gold-plated booties pattering across a tin roof.
* You might encounter–and exchange banter–with a utilities worker standing in a hole of someone’s yard. His head and shoulders might be peeking out, and the dogs might be hysterically flummoxed by said man-in-a-hole. You might carry the image of the man-in-a-hole with you for the rest of the day. He might–just might, mind you– reserve a place for himself in a book. So, remember that: walk in the rain = man-in-the-hole. And all that that implies.