Daily Report: New And Old Vistas

My stomach is still a bit buggy. It's the same kind of cramps I get when I drink a whole bunch of milk: About every 20 minutes, a wrenching, twisting sensation that makes me stop and hold my breath until it passes.

After the Pacquiao fight, it started raining, with a low and thick sky, and heavy cold air. Definitely an indoor kind of day. Perhaps the vindictive spirits of Albion brought their damp brume to the happy island home of Pacquiao in retribution for their hapless warrior's defeat today.

Mike Bird stopped by for a visit and we watched the replay of the fight together. The fight was so short that the Filipino TV station was stuck airing 2 minutes of coverage and then 5 minutes of commercials: Hatton walks in... 5 minutes. Pacquiao walks in... 5 minutes. Let's get ready to rumble!!!... 5 minutes. They even played the entire fight twice on a loop. (I'll bet that TV stations who purchase Pacquiao broadcast rights from the promoters start insisting that they pay by the minute from this point forward.)

At about 2:00 I climbed into bed. Out of boredom, I picked up and read through 2 of The Chronicles of Narnia which I had purchased for Ednil last year: "The Magician's Nephew" and "The Horse and His Boy". The last time I read those, I was 12 or 13 years old. It was interesting to note how I had forgotten much of the stories, but remembered perfectly individual scenes or even specific lines verbatim.

I mentioned earlier that Puppy Tyson had learned to make it up the stairs today: He made it up the cement outside stairs from the garage to the laundry balcony and from there up to the rooftop garden. But he still couldn't conquer the wooden stairs inside: He could get his front paws up, but his long toenails on his back paws would zing out from under him when he tried to step up, losing all purchase, and he'd go chin-down belly-flop on the stairs and slide back down.

Well, he overcame that obstacle later in the day as well: Now he can make it up the inside stairs to our bedroom and the TV room. Of course, he can't get down. This meant that he would run up the stairs, and then get stuck wuffling and scratching and moaning outside our door, a prisoner of his own ascent. We finally had to put him on his leash and attach that to a leg of the couch so that we could go to sleep.

Tomorrow, we'll go out and get some chicken wire to fashion a nighttime barrier to keep Tyson from performing any late-night visits... at least until such time as his stairway sojourns can go both up and down.