Pink eye and deadlines and insomnia (oh my!) and a drunk neighbor playing ZZ Top's "Legs" over and over again at the 1 a.m. hour is no way to go through life, son. The neighbor and the itchy eye didn't let me sleep until about 3 a.m. Again. Same as the night before. Ugh!
But up I'm now, and I understand that the weather is going to be as miserable today as last Thursday, when we were crushed with a 104-degree heat index. (Yes, my European friends, that's 104F - as close to the surface of the sun as I care to get, thanks.) So, it's a fine day to do some writing and then curl up with a book and a glass of wine in the safety and comfort of the air conditioning here at Chez Merde.
Hope your Sunday is sunny, friends! (But less skin-sizzling and eye-frying than here.)
I'm off to write about a dead pony. This dead pony, as a matter of fact:
Intrigued? Horrified? Hopefully both. And, when I'm done and you hear the story, I'll hope you'll be intriguingly, horrifically amused. I'll leave you with that for now. :) Now, where is my corkscrew? It's 5 o'clock somewhere, right?