Yesterday we went to see the puppy. She bit my hand and it bled. I sat on the ground, which turned out to be a disgusting idea, as the puppy made clear shortly into our visit, twice. I wanted to seem at ease with dogs, that I cared for dogs, that I was a natural. The trainer offered the boys chocolates and I let them take them without washing their hands. I was deep into my rôle.

All the way there and then all the way back and then all evening the boys battled each other and whined at me until I could not stand the sound of them. When John, towards the end of the evening, said he wouldn’t get in the bath because it was too slippery, I went into another room and stared out the window for a little while.

Then this morning I woke up and it was beautiful out and the boys were kind, so I called Tara and said we would take the dog.

Now we must name her. I had suggested Lu, for Lubitsch, but then lying in bed last night I decided it was a little overdetermined, Lu for Lubitsch, Lu for read, and then Lu-Bitch. Too much, although if the boys could agree on it I wouldn’t care. Henry likes Lu but thinks Lulu is horrible and John has agreed to Lu but will call her Lulu, and I don’t think I want a fight to start every time one of us calls the dog’s name. I don’t think that this is what I want. But I don’t know what I want, or why I want it. We’re getting a dog. We’re going to train her and raise her and spend sums of money on her care, and she will always be a dog and never be an adult person and will depend on me, when having people depend on me is something that sometimes I can’t stand. Do I want the dog because I want to change? Do I want the dog so that things will be different? Or do I want the dog merely because I want to do things and name things and extend my will?

We have two chairs which were given to us by, if I remember correctly, the cousin of an aunt. This cousin lived near us when we lived in the city the first time, had just had twins, and wanted to clear out her apartment. She wanted the chairs to stay in the family, and she considered us family, so she gave us the chairs, with the request that we not sell them or put them out for pickup, but keep them in the family and if we needed to, give them back to her one day.

One of the chairs had a broken arm, which we repaired. One is in the dining room. Where is the other one? Somewhere.

One thing that was funny about this woman, whose relation to me is, as I said, attenuated, but enough that I have her chairs, is that she called me by my mother-in-law’s name, and I answered to it. I was walking up Broadway when I heard someone call, Claire! and I turned, because Claire is both close to my name and the name of someone who is important to me. I turned when she called, Claire! and saw her and said, Hi!, and then I found that I couldn’t say, You got my attention by calling me Claire but that’s really not my name. So I have her chairs and I have been very unkind, because I never corrected her.