Bless you, Harlee

When I walked downstairs this morning, the front door was wide open. It had been open for a while because the temperature downstairs was down to 41. Harlee, thank goodness, went upstairs to hide in the office rather than ventured outside. (Zara probably would have gone out, but she was in the bedroom with me. OTOH, it was very cold and uninviting.) Nothing was taken.

If you don't close the door all the way, it blows open. I usually check to see that it's locked before I go to sleep, but I guess that I didn't last night. (I'm a little concerned about the amount of stuff I'm forgetting.)

Harlee deserves tuna tonight. The real stuff.

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