This morning, as I was standing at the cooktop preparing Tal's breakfast (yes, I was cooking; and, yes, I admit, we were out of milk preventing Tal from enjoying his usual cold cereal and milk; but all that's beside the point) and Tal was sitting at the counter reading the newspaper, I noticed Whitby. He had given up trying to get one of us to toss the ball for him and he'd stretched out in a block of sun on the corner of the dining room rug. Off to my left he was watching every move I made, his eye brows cocking as he followed me with his eyes.
He was so comfortable that my going for the camera didn't occasion a change of position.
Now, for confession time. I lied in last evening's post. Actually, I simply couldn't stand the suspense. We took the tape down in the study before going to bed -- without incident. No need for touchups, either where the wall color came off with the tape or where the tape didn't prevent the trim paint from running onto the wall. Ah, such sweet dreams.
The resettling has begun. When we cleared the room, everything went into the guest room -- small pieces of furniture to books to files. The process of resettling involves deciding what to put back, what to store, what to give away and what to throw away, the last two categories being by far the most important.
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