The dogs are barking, the woman’s screaming and the man’s swearing … it’s the kind of scene you see in a park and think: I’m glad that has nothing to do with me
When I walk into the house with the dog ahead of me, I already know what I’m going to say when my wife asks, “How was that?”
I’m going to say: “It was just awful.”
But my wife isn’t in the house; she’s in the garden weeding, and only briefly looks up when the dog starts circling her. In the end, I have to go out there and stare at a bush.
“Lots of weeds,” my wife says. I stare, and say nothing.
