The One Where I'm Spoiled

My vacation is coming to a swift and painful end. I am simultaneously aware that the next few days are stretched out before me like a big cozy blanket, and that I'm back to my cube farm on Monday.

The rain, uncharacteristically, has been steady for the last three days. Last night our power wavered twice, so I set myself up in the living room with a heavy flashlight and three lit candles on the television. Each candle had a different fruit scent. It felt festive. It smelled rotten.

The lights stayed on for the rest of the night. I sacked out on the couch and read Garth Ennis's "Preacher: Gone to Texas" and most of Stephen Pressfield's "The War of Art." I needed to get the cataract that was "Angels & Demons" out of my mind's eye. And then maybe I fell asleep watching "Aqua Teen Hunger Force: Volume Three." (#1 in the hood, G)

All right. That's enough with the corporate shilling. But man, I love me some Meatwad.

I've got to get some blood drawn today in preparation for another round of appointments next week. Nothing serious. Just check ups.

And today I plan to make tacos. Well, burritos actually. It's just that the word "taco" is a lot more fun to say, but burritos are a lot more fun to eat.

And thus ends the philosophy portion of our tour. The clock chimes eight.