Not Quite Sure

Sunday afternoon I was out on the front porch reading Jane Eyre when I noticed a commotion across the street. My neighbour approached, which is odd: she seldom waves and will usually turn around if she sees me outside. She asked if I witnessed her dog and another animal interacting inappropriately, she said that her dog was in heat and had escaped from the house. I told her that I hadn't been aware of anything until she began yelling. I then smiled and said, Spring is in the air. I couldn't tell if she was pleased.

It has been an odd week. Samizdat is reading House of Meetings. Judging by its first 25 pages, I gauge it being below the fillet of Amis' work.