The puppies always get excited when I open the hall closet. As the heavy, wooden door slides open with a twist and a pop, my two tiny dogs run over, tails wagging, because opening that closet means one of three things: The pups are going for a walk, I need to sweep, or it's time to play Rock Band 4. My boyfriend and I store the plastic guitars in that closet, and as I slide them out, brushing past jacket sleeves and cardboard boxes, even the puppies understand what's going on. We're having a party.
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