The Rioja Cure

My god, this has been a stressful work week. I never knew a part-time job could take so much out of me! I was exhausted all day yesterday, barely dragging myself through the streets of Notting Hill to walk Olga.

Last night I quickly resorted to a glass of Rioja, or two or three, with my lentil soup and peanut butter and enjoyed a really terrible movie -- the Mystery Science Theater 3000 version of "Eegah," recommended via Facebook by some friends. It's basically about a caveman terrorizing homely Southern California youths in the early '60s. Sounds plausible, right?

I slept the sleep of the dead -- no caveman dreams -- and this morning I feel much better. Work stuff is basically straightened out, and yesterday I put in place the essentials for my spring break trip to Paris with Dave in early April. Hotel reservations, dog care and train tickets all finalized. Things are looking up around here!

The dog care bit was interesting -- I called a local dog care service and rather than take my reservation over the phone, they invited me to come by and see their facilities. They specified a time in the afternoon, and I walked over with Olga at the appropriate hour. Visitors are not allowed to knock or use the doorbell because it alarms the dogs, so I had to wave through the window to show them I was there -- and when I walked in with Olga, seven people (surrounded by an assortment of contented-looking dogs) all just sort of looked at me. So I explained who I was and came up with a few rudimentary questions, and then the woman who runs the place pressured me into buying a new leash and harness. Then I left. Very weird. I would have been happy with a phone reservation.

Besides, Olga won't even be staying at that house. She'll go to their country place outside London, where she can run around and cavort. I think it will be fun for her -- like summer camp!

(Photo: Spring flowers on a tree in Notting Hill, spotted on Olga's morning walk.)