Under My Breath

Watching "Mad Men" and then reading a debate on Twitter has soured my mood, and the dog has picked up on it. The fug of toxic nonsense I exude as I argue under my breath with people who aren't there or don't exist makes it almost impossible for her to find a decent place to pee, a task for which she requires all her concentration.

Venus is high in the west, and I watch it for a while as the dog noses around a tree before she's distracted by a laughing couple walking on the other side of the street. I try to still my need to be right, if for no other reason that that I want the dog to do her business so I can go home.