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My Man doesn't read my blog. I suspected as much; now I have proof.

"Did you buy these gloves or did OurLithuianianHouseKeeper*?"

He asks while scooping up some puppy shit with a well latex-covered hand.

"I did."

Of course! Don't you listen read my blog?

"Specifically for picking up OurRottweillerPuppy**'s shit." I add.

"Really? Great idea." He congratulates me.

You'd know that if you read my blog instead of just looking at the pictures.

He does look at the pictures. I know this because he made an offhand comment about how odd it was that I posted a picture of my hand in a glove. "That's weird," he said. So, he does look at the pictures. That's something.

How closely he looks at the pictures is still unknown.

How closely do you look at the pictures?

Do you know why I like the accompanying photo so much? It's the detail in the lower right hand corner:

From among the crowd and across a cross street on Oxford Street*** a man makes eye contact. He looks straight into the camera though his body is at an angle. His look isn't friendly. It could even be menacing. Is he having an affair with that woman he's with, and therefore reluctant to be caught on camera? Is he in a hurry? Is he annoyed because there are too many goddamned shoppers on Oxford Street on a Saturday morning?


*OLHK
**ORP
***Probably Orchid Street.