It was a bright sunshine-y Sunday, perfect for taking Sumner on a good downtown stroll, followed by an earnest meal prep and a quick return to roasted salmon and roasted broccoli. I'd bought a larger slab of it anticipating another round of salmon croquettes with the leftovers...but I was not a clean cutter and I was too hungry to care.
That Sunday morning began with a pre-dawn awakening and a crisp 28°F wintry dominance to the outside air. I’ve had a fire laid for weeks now and the coffee time with Sumner called for its lighting. Each in our respective chairs, me sippin’ and he snoozin’ … and that’s how our day started. This was Fire No. 84 in the kitchen addition.
It was also one of those mornings where Sumner was convinced we were under grave and constant threat of squirrel assault, with each creak and groan of the house his heightened alert status kept him on edge, and patiently impatient for us to go forth and investigate—and, he hoped, exterminate.
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