When Nature and Civilization collide it sounds just like stirring twelve tin cans in the bathtub with a golf club. This sound, combined with another sound—the sound of a pair of teeny-tiny hands strangling a pigeon.
I laid in bed for 1…2…3…4…5 hours and listened to, what I concluded was, a pigeon trapped behind the flashing on my house.
A squirrel met its maker (Bruce Hornsby) that same way last Summer. But not before it spent several days running itself to death. Was the pigeon luckier? It shivered in the cold until shortly before dawn. Like the Little Match Girl, it shivered to death, clutching a clawful of burnt matches.
We have a client that needs graphics for its trucks so while I listened to the pathetic cries of the dying pigeon, I thought about that.
It was a productive night.
Jen said this was called taking inventory and while I am familiar with this as a spiritual concept, with a priest and 
These items were not on Jen’s list
but I think that was a potentially expensive oversight. Just to be on the safe side, I counted one dog named Millie and 34 pieces of Bazooka.
And I am here because I love the smell of flooded basements. 
Is that asbestos tile??
Don’t hurry home guys!
And *I* know it’s summer for other, more important, reasons.
But I’m trying to be a better person/less into body-sculpting, so I decided to read a book. It was written by 
Chapter 25 was especially fun to read because Madge is so near and dear to my heart and I could relate to the notion of elder-abuse.
Except my mom has made it very clear that she wants to be euthanized via pillow-suffocation, pre-elder-abuse.
but I have never really studied it…
And again…
I KNEW IT.
And EMTs had to come to that same dingy bedroom, on that very same night, because we thought my chest-tube had fallen out?
Choosing paint color is just like choosing ink color. But with less Jen and more anxiety.
Dinah told me later that she was plotting my murder while I took this photo.
Who needs pants when you have legs like that? Amiright??
Broken femur?
SERIOUSLY???