Because this morning I woke up and found myself walking like an old lady.* It's the direct result of walking about 60 miles yesterday in flip-flops that woefully lack any kind of support. Also, I think they rubbed the skin off the soles of my feet.
Right now, I bear remarkable similarity to the fashion in which Quincy walks when we wake him up at night to go out for the last time - as though he has transformed in the course of a few hours into a fourteen year-old dog instead of one who is not yet two. He gets off the couch all disoriented and sort of teeters around, which is hilarious to see in a dog who can generally run an hour of sprints at the drop of a hat.
*My apologies if your name is Mabel and you are not old (or not a lady, for that matter). I think it is a lovely name, as any fan of Mad About You would agree.
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