Seven-thirty, and All is Well

I had the rare pleasure last night of sleeping in until 7:30 in the morning. Strange, given that I went to bed at the same time as usual, and I generally awake somewhere between 5 and 6. On the other hand, the dead arm syndrome, which had not been present over the last few days, had reappeared. Perhaps that's the price of resting well throughout the night. I dunno. Can't win, right? The only trouble with waking up later is that my morning walk must happen much later than usual, which means that 1) the day will already be growing hot and 2) that there will be more traffic on the roads, and that is unfortunate because the big fat brown dog, who will likely see me and come along for the walk, is a retard as far as traffic is concerned. It's odd, because she has always been a roaming dog, never on a leash, and you would think she would have grown wiser about the dangers of traffic. But not so. She wanders in front of cars and bikes, seemingly oblivious. It sets my teeth on edge. Or what few teeth I have.