Wow. Just had a meltdown by Blogger. I'd written this whole discourse on Bobby Jindal, who was on "60 Minutes" tonight, and it was all lost. Damn. I'll just say, he's not ready for prime time.
It's supposed to be going down in the 40s tonight.
Lucky runs out into the hallways sometimes when I open the front door. He likes to roll around on the carpet (there's no carpet in here). Last night I dreamt that he'd run out, and a few minutes later I went looking for him. I found him sitting on the edge of opening to the garbage chute, looking inside (like he sits on the ledges on the terrace). I was horrified since it's a five-story drop down the chute to the dumpster and monster trash-masher below. I think I woke up then. (This could never happen, of course, since there's a door to the trash room and a trap door on the chute.)
Finished that story tonight. Will keep going over it. But it's mostly done. Here's the first paragraph (subject to change):
It's been almost a year now since Bonnie Sue moved out, or was moved out, rather, after goin on five years. Bonnie still works the dinner shift at a little place down the road. She used to walk to work from here. Now she drives a monster truck in from Hell's Mountain. I hope you're doin well, Bonnie Sue. I really do.
Made barbecued chicken earlier and had that for dinner. Came out great. I used a whole chicken and cut it up. Recession tip: It's a lot cheaper than buying pieces. Just be careful dismembering the chicken.
Watching "Renovation Realities." What a trip. Now "The Stagers." (I've seen it. Looking forward to new shows, Matthew.)
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