Glarg… Am I too old for this stuff? I don’t usually feel old. My usual modus operandi is to bounce around like a silly old rabbit. An overgrown, ungainly one. Hoppity hoppity. Er, that is, when I am not slugging around. On the beach watching the boats go by. On the Green Couch watching the dogs go by. Wherever.

I dunno. A gazillion years ago, we would get off work and drive up to Houghton Lake in the dark and it was fun and kind of exciting and when it was winter, we’d get up here and have to pump water and the whole works. And I might feel kind of tired when I got here but it was a happy kind of tired and I’d still stay up late and party or whatever. Now, whenever I am faced with taking the night train to the Great White North, all I can think of is what a looooonnnng day it is. I got home this afternoon and all I wanted to do was change out of my work clothes. But. Not. And so. Here we are and I am toadily roto, not to mention incoherent. And it wasn’t even that bad a drive because it didn’t start to snow until we were on our last five miles of the I75 SUV Speedway and the speedway itself wasn’t too bad once we got past about Flint because it is a Thursday night and there weren’t too many of the usual mad speedway drivers. Did I say something about incoherent?

And, as you can see, the Indefatigable lives on, even though it doesn’t live in front of the Landfill any more.

Good night!!!
KW!

P.S. Hey, Mrs. Commander, where do you wanna have lunch tomorrow?

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