are all over the floor. The front door is open and I should sweep them out. Instead, I close the door. My Brittany growls at

as a part of her royal suffering held fast to moon beams as her late night refuge and they soon became her only link with

Suburban Priorities The yard is cut; trimming done. Both floors are dusted and vacuumed. Each bathroom is spotless. The wash is folded and put away.