In another life
Sometimes I fantasize about living in LA. Which I think (know?) I would hate. But then it sometimes seems irrationally appealing to me in a modern, sleek, clean sort of way.
Or moving to the middle of nowhere.
In this imaginary life I’d either have a house so small it would not require the sort of cleaning that my current house requires (because it probably wouldn’t be large enough for a dog either) or it would be so full of dirt and grime and in the middle of nowhere that I wouldn’t care if I cleaned the floors and five minutes later the dog ran all over them with muddy paws from some giant hole she’s decided to dig in the backyard.
Dogs should probably stay a size that allows you to carry them around in baby carriers.