First wetting of cans
I wasn’t in the room, but the wonders of social media came through. Today, the beer met the can (I think). First test run on a brand new production wing at son #2’s world of soaked barley, so to speak. Again, without getting wet and sniffing my wrist, I have to assume that everyone involved is pleased.
Back here, the highlight of the day involved dragging (OK, carrying) the vacuum cleaner down stairs bad removing the residue of a mass death. Flies. I think I might have also picked up a small screw, but some things are meant to be. I refuse to sort the bin, on the odd chance it was something crucial. More likely, a pebble, brought in on a shoe sole.
Big funeral ceremony in Washington, as #41 was laid to rest. On hand,#39, #42, #43, #44 and #45 (who doesn’t sing with his friends). Seriously, dude, at least pretend! The words were there, on the flip side of the program you were holding. Unless, maybe… you can read, right? Funerals tend to bring out the “nice” in the neighbours, for the brief time spent in a huge cathedral. Once outside; carry on.
The provincial legislature shut down for the holidays, this afternoon. Great schedule, if you can get it.
Stop powdering that posterior. At least, stop snorting the dust. Turns out that talcum powder might not be good for you, if inhaled. Seems that talc and asbestos are often co-mined. I knew that, I think. We don’t use quite as much talc as we used to.
