...I will write something of substance (well, what passes for substance here at the Church of the Big Sky) tomorrow. Honest.
I am going to bed now (yeah, I'm a hot date on a Friday night) with a Ben-Gay heat patch on my lower back, fuzzy socks on my feet, and a couple Tylenol PM in my belly. And a copy of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine to read. (Holy crap. I'm turning into my mother!)
I'm a tuckered puppy, but it's a good kind of tired. The "I have a job at the coolest freakin' place in the world and no longer have to worry about rent" kind of tired.
Stories will be told tomorrow. Russian cannibals will be discussed (yet again.) I will shoot a man in Reno just to watch him die.
Wait. I don't think I actually meant that last one. Like I said, I'm a tuckered puppy. The brain-to-typing-fingers filter is offline.
So I wish y'all a good night, and I'll be back tomorrow, buckaroos!