I returned home from Jersey to find that the dingo molted during my absence. My apartment was a veritable desert of tumbleweeds in the form of white fluffy furballs. I couldn't touch anything without said body part coming up covered in fur. Odd time for a dog to profusely shed, no? Is it like a groundhog telling me winter is not actually on its torturous way to me? Hooray!!
I popped in the Fleet Foxes to help me through my cleaning frenzy, and it was surprisingly motivational. Motivational enough to get me to wash my sofa cover thingy, and that, my dears, is sayin' a lot.