Just finished a week babysitting in Boston. In Marshfield really. My son and his wife were having a bit of trouble finding day care for the evenings. Joe works on a tugboat and is gone two weeks a month. Ashley manages a restaurant and must work three evenings a week. We offered to help out if they were desperate and they took us up on it.
I am always up for a good road trip and Boston is on the top of my list since three of my siblings live there. So in a seven day period I would be on duty for about 30 hours. That would leave 138 hrs to party. That sounds so juvenile but there you have it. As much as I love my grandkids, the icing on the cake was the Patriots win, their spectacular comeback win in the Super Bowl. Rumor has it Trump had a hand in this thanks to Secret Executive Order X, but I'm willing to swallow my pride this once. So I get there and everyone goes to bed. I felt the dogs should be let out at midnight before I turned in. The male always stays around, but the female takes off, so she has to have a rope on. She seemed so desconsolate that I decided to let her out without the rope. When she drifted into the neighbor's yard I knew I had made a mistake. I tried to ease up on her but she kept just out of my reach. She was toying with me so I decided to play along. It was foggy and I got a little nervous whenever she faded into the odd patch of woods. I learned where the expression whistling in the dark comes from. There was no traffic. No wind, but I was glad to have my hat and heavy coat. I could hear the surf. There was a big storm brewing. I was very lost. The dog was heading further from home. I turned us toward the surf and a black street leading to the beach. It was a test of wills and she yielded. After that it seemed we were heading towards home with many side trips. She led the way home and was glad to get into her bed. I myself had work to do.