Aubtle traces of condiment
We live in dark times, indeed. As the depositions continue, south of here, we have learned that cleaning ketchup off the walls is a real task. A real one, when your boss has a hissy fit and launches a burger on a fancy plate to vent frustration. I wasn’t there, but the young office assistant has no reason to fabricate the story.
I guess I had a different experience, in my work place. No flying burgers, ever. We are less theatrical, or something. And mentioning the ketchup limits the number of possible candidates for what might be a crime, elsewhere.
Odd noises locally. I heard four (possible) gunshots, earlier. Went outside, and have little doubt. Just now, a horn blowing on the highway. I checked to make sure the dog wasn’t tempting fate. Unrelated, the mail brought a vehicle pass to get into the national parks. Where should we go? And when? Note added: the dog is fine. Now back to regular programming.
The year is half over.
In keeping with my quest for Vitamin D, I went out on the deck, again. Sat there tempting fate. Those new blue shades are welcomed. I know; I could wait until after midnight, but I’m trying to conform to local standards. Next step will be a towel on the beach. Or not. Sand is essentially flavorless, although there is texture. And being found on a beach (after midnight) might add to the rumour mill.
We are still several weeks away from “the invasion”. Enough time to pick up my stuff downstairs. Will there be photos? Not decided.
