Head On Into The Sun
Aw crap. It's raining out. Rainy rainy raining, none of this spitty misty rain, nah it's full on rainy rain and dammit I wanted to go to the post office and pick up a bottle of that Riposso Italian red we had the other night. Dammit. Sheldon sighed, a long, loud, exaggerated sigh, fully voiced, making Corbin the Corgi twitch his ears back, as if flicking off an errant fly. To his credit, Corbin snuffled a beat then fell back into his deep sleep, dreaming of whatever it is that fat under exercised middle aged corgis dream about. Sheldon looked at the sleeping dog. Let sleeping dogs lie, right? Dammit, I should take the dog with me but he hates the rain more than I do. Aw crap, I hate the rain. It never, ever lets up, I swear. Sheldon deflated back into the couch, letting his head snap back on his spine like a marionette, resting against the sagging cushions well worn from hours of stasis spent sitting in front of the television, day in and day out. He should get rid of this couc...