Personal Space: the final final frontier 

These are the potatoes of the Couchship Tooterprise. Their continuing mission: to doink new tushies, to seek out slow squirrels and new squeaky toys, to silently toot where no hound has tooted before.

My description for this blog is “critters, coding, commuting, and chaos”. I have hit three of the four Cs in this set of photos:

four greyhounds in a small room sleeping
Morning: Somewhere I’ll find a spot for a chill and a cappuccino before a day of reviewing, learning, practicing code.
Noon to evening: We hit the living room where I code in a fart cloud. I don’t need a pomodoro. I code when they sleep, and take a break when they wake.
three greyhounds with legs entertwined
Night: All paws all the time at the side of my bed. If I’m not too worn out, I blog or tweet what I did. IFF I am not too worn out.

I have let my career change and coding interrupt my reading and crafting; however, nothing will interfere with my love of greyhound rescue. I could not code in an empty house. I do not create when my house is empty. Do they interrupt my flow? Do paws smell like corn chips? But I have feet. If I need to, I can ride to a quieter spot. There will be interruptions in coffee shops, at The Iron Yard, in the library. At least with my pack, I can use my feet to scratch and rub their bellies while I think about how to approach an algorithm, laptop on my thighs. I cannot recommend you rubbing the bellies of the loud talkers at a coffee shop. You’ll just have to trust me on this.

This is my life. I wouldn’t change a thing.

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