Chronicles of the Wayward Moot

WELCOME TO THE MOOT, oh world-wanderers and word-whisperers. After two years of Peace Corps. After 2,200 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. What. Comes. Next?


My two housemates Samson and Ruby. Samson, at bottom, is old and fragile ... he waddles and plods more than he walks, and it's kind of an effort for him to do anything except sleep. He's got a disease that makes it difficult for him to process water so it goes right through him and he's constantly drinking and peeing. Ruby the boxer seems to have some kind of complex that makes her wiggle and nearly bend in half twitching when she gets excited, which is most of the time. She's all skin and bones and floppy jowls but has a huge heart. They both do, and they both sneak around the house farting conspicuously. Maybe I fit in here after all?


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