“Put a fork in me-
My ass needs reconstructive surgery.”
Isn’t that how the adage goes?
I’m back from the country’s interior with stories to tell, but finally getting in at 12:00 midnight, and with a boatload of perhaps the grossest laundry ever in the history of gross laundry to be done, I haven’t had much in the way of time in (with, during) which to pen a missive.
Today is the day for that, and Wednesday will be when I fire it off into space.
For now, let us all celebrate the simple joys of being alive, and, (if you’ve lived them as I have), possibly the sublime sensation of spending the weekend hitting our legs with a giant hammer.
You know… If you’re into that sort of thing.
That’s a mighty fine lookin blue bikecycle there mister.
The Midwest swamp ass will take many a good fella out…
Begging your pardon sir, but your laundry is not gross until you’ve fallen in a pine swamp mudhole.