Attention all burglars: I may have alluded to this before, but in case there is any confusion allow me to reiterate: Mojo has THE WORST WATCHDOG on the face of the earth. It is to the point that, when I hear a car in the driveway, I look over at Rosie snoozing away in her bed and I say "Okay, someone's here. How long will it be before you notice?" Generally speaking they have to be walking in the house before she'll get up. I've come in and hung my coat up and flipped through the mail and checked for messages, and then finally shouted, "Okay, I'm here! I think I'll rob the house!" before I finally hear her rise up from her bed and come look at me through the balcony railing. Not come DOWN, mind you, until I ask her to--no, she'd just stand there wagging her tail if I didn't insist she come greet me properly. (And you think MOJO's lazy!)

Of course this is not the case when my Favorite Husband comes home. Oh, no, heaven forfend! Him coming home involves some sort of national holiday, the shameless flirt. Yay! Daddy's home! He's SO much more fun than Mojo, the woman who FEEDS me and BRUSHES me!

So anyway. Lately I've been waking up around three or four in the morning. I'm sure this is NOT due to perimenopause, as one friend has suggested, but instead due to a combination of my going to sleep around eight in the evening and living the vibrant, exciting lifestyle Mojo so enjoys. But since my Favorite Husband needs his beauty sleep, I tend to sneak out of the bedroom and bop quietly around downstairs until he happens to get up, which is around five. Early on I tried to get the dog to come with me, but she is such a slugabed I usually don't try anymore.  MORE Mojo! »