I woke up from a dream this morning in which I had misplaced one poodle. Another black poodle, an exact replica, except that his apricot brother got along with him, appeared to take his place. Everything was fine. In the dream, Husband and I remarked to each other how nice this was.
Then I found two black poodles, unknowns, cavorting in the bathtub. What could I do? They had fallen from the sky and had to be kept. Then a second apricot poodle meandered in the door. Closing the door after this new one, I saw the original black poodle resting on the lawn, taking the air and the sun.
Here I am, looking [somewhat] forward to attrition, and in my dreams I'm accumulating the things like lint.