Okay, I’ve gone to the comic shop. I’ve bought the long boxes. You’d think the least the comics could do is to sort themselves neatly and hop in. After all I’ve spent on them, this is the thanks I get.
I expended all of my productive energy early and gave the dog a bath. (The other one went to the groomer this week, so she was spared.) Usually, this makes him kind of gloomy and reserved, like he’s spending the day figuring out what he did to merit this kind of torture. Today it had the effect of making him a total spaz. He’s barked at everything that moves, and I’m ready to give him another bath just to try and bum him out.
So, in short, I blame my dog for the fact that the comics are still unsorted and unboxed. Bad dog! Bad!