Nothing pressing to attend to now until tea-time, and that's three hours away yet. They won't even watch telly as "he" is working in the corner of the lounge, the tight bastards. Got shouted at for putting mud all over the lounge carpet earlier, but I'm not that bothered, it's all water off a ducks back to me. Decided to have a little sleep in the hall, the blanket on the bean bag is full of dog hairs. Let's just say that housework isn't a strong point round here. I think it's Wednesday - the calendar on the wall is a bit high up and I can't quite see. If so that means there's a fair chance it's an Indian for the two-legged's tonight, which means a few extra poppadoms for me. I sneaked a bit of chicken jalfrezi once, but it gave me a right dose of the Erthas. So I'd better keep my nose clean, as they say, which is easier said than done on my diet of what I like to call "terrier truffles" I can tell you. Pooh count: 3, not curling them out at my usual rate today but I'm sure I can cook one up for later.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.