Twice this week I have placed my venti iced tea, black, light ice, no water, no syrup, on the roof of the Crosseyed Bitch and twice I have seen it fall off. This morning before training as I was . . . umm, marking my territory with Trinity, was the second time.
Let this be a lesson to me.
Hold the tea against Trinity’s ass while I kiss her.
Research Project Number – 04
Wrote up a brief on the use of heavy bombers last night. That was much needed and I was able to squeeze that in between various distractions. It is the only writing I am getting done of late.
This morning is the next dose of Blackboard training. I’m not looking forward to four hours in the classroom. I’m not happy with the classroom itself (it was designed with felons in mind) or our pace. We do have a good instructor but we are just moving so damned slow. It is infuriating.
So I’ll probably spend the morning moving ahead, looping back to check on the main group, then moving ahead again. It is entirely too much like most high school courses I took back in the 1980s.
Two of Trinity’s grandkids (barring any disasters inspired by her eldest daughter, whom I care not a lick for) will be staying at the Pod this weekend. That should be fun but I’ll most certainly get zero work done.
So it goes.
Steven Francis Murphy
Author of The Limb Knitter and Tearing Down Tuesday