Unpacked, unscathed, uninspired

The glutton has returned to Mt. Willis.

After four days on the road, in the air, and bellied up to a mother’s dinner table, I’m back on the mountain, wearing boxers covered in bongo-playing monkeys. Monkeys are funny.

My good buddy took good care of the pooch and took even better care of my house. I’m thinking of asking him to move in with me… on a strictly platonic basis, of course.

I’m running on Central Time, so I’m not nearly as tired as I need to be right now. I did everything I could to ensure exhaustion (no dinner, worked non-stop on house projects when I walked in the door tonigt, etc.). No going. I’m wide awake.

Sadly, I don’t have any really funny tales to relate. Nor do I have insight into what’s on my head right now (besides Quackers).

So, maybe tomorrow.

Maybe next year.