In just a minute here I am going to go upstairs and take a shower, and then I am going to come back down and get another five or six pages on The White City, come hell or high water, even though I have no clue what the hell is going on here, before I go to archery at six. But so far this morning I did get up and take the dog for a three-mile run (there were breaks with walking bits in there) during which we almost got hit by some asswipe who couldn't respect the crosswalk while making a left turn from a stop sign and then she had the termerity to give ME the hairy eyeball, as if you know, being in an expensive car and wearing too much makeup somehow automatically gives you the right of way over the pedestrian in the crosswalk with the Shakespeare T-shirt and the hairy dog. So what, you ask, makes that so virtuous?
Reader, I did not flip her off.
But oh, I thought about it.
In other news, I'm not wearing any pants.