Edgar Allen Poe would have loved my Friday after work. The dog dug up a dead raccoon. What's worse is that he had to have done this a day or so ago, nothing else could explain that smell, or his recent eating and crapping habits. Matt (my brother) and I put what was left of it in a garbage bag, put that in another garbage bag, and are going to put it with the trash this week. It's communal faith that will keep other animals from tearing into the bag - faith or the universe recognizing that we will not give it a third burial.
I talked with Kwee on the phone Friday also, with helped balance the day out. He seems very excited to work on a comic that will be published, sounds interested in the story, and showed me some of his more recent work. We talked about artists that we liked, some ways not to write a comic script, and what we're doing when we're not aspiring to be the next great artists in the world.
Today I helped my father and brother get an old broken refrigerator out of the basement. This is one of those fridges made from metal that could store your household adventurer through large explosions, and the basement was not made for tall people (I'm 5' 10" and the runt of the three of us). It came up to a twisted ankle, a wrenched shoulder, assorted bruises and pinches and a few near-crushings between the three of us, but we got it out there, and if heavy trash pick-up isn't this week I'm a gonna cut somebodah.