Busybody
I could never truly be a busybody, one of those people who peeks out their front window every time they hear a car. Sometimes, I just get tired of people telling me their business. I just want to sit quietly alone in the tastefully decorated library of my ranch home, watching the horses graze and whinny in the pasture while sipping a cup of tea and pausing to contemplate the next sentence of my much anticipated, soon-to-be-best-selling book. Is that too much to ask?
I'd feel better about not having the ranch and knowing too much of other peoples' business if Ethan wasn't acting like I'm a walking turd today (aka repellent to his toddler sensibilities, for whatever reason), and also if that old woman would have quit passing me as I did my laps in the pool at the Y. Really, old woman? You couldn't have just let me do my laps in peace? You had to turn it into a competition?
If you feel the urge to talk about your problems with me, please don't. Not today. I will, however, still be accepting praise. And pecuniary compliments, if you're so inclined.
Coming up this week on The Fierce Beagle: An Evening With Greatness, Part 2—the riveting finale to An Evening With Greatness, Part 1; Bathroom Makeover—before and after; and The Benefits of Happy Pills, or Why One Shouldn't Let One's Prescription Lapse.