I think I slept a few hours, but woke up awake about midnight. Up to the attic office, a momentary half-pass at getting to any of the hours of paper I need to be pushing pushed and *splash* into the internets. Of course my first allegiance is to you, dear blab reader, and next to that whorish copycat they sublindly named Facebook. COTH, Craigslist, Machinery Trader, Forestry Forum, and then the wildcards following ledes, leads & muse. Always at least 5 or 6 tabs open in firefox, use the throwaways to google whatever clogs the screen, won't wash out. It seems I can never win a clean desktop in this fashion -there's always some word, some term or figure that keef or toby throws out that I have to leave unknown and incomprehended when time spins to the next chore and I have to log out. You are about to close 9 tabs. Are you sure you want to continue?
My tub stops up if you don't use a screen on the drain to catch hair, so I do. The last wife was beautifully hirsute, and the odd string of freaks and felons I've boarded since have been equally as productive at producing bathroom shed. The punk rocker I rent to currently (and hope she never goes!) dries her hair by violently shaking it mosh-style, I suppose, as I find her hairs stuck high on the walls like bachelors "is the spaghetti ready?" specimens. The unspoken rule of this little house bathroom is that you clear the screen when you exit the tub -at least, it fucking better be unspoken. If I have to tell you, you better be ready to relocate. That's a lie. It's her. She bitches about other peoples hair. I don't think she ever sees what she leaves on the walls, and although she clears the screen, she leaves her hairball on the edge of the tub. I've let 3 or 4 days worth collect there just to see if she'd notice, but she usually doesn't before I cave and stick it in the trash under the vanity. Clearing the screens.
Are you sure you want to continue?