Blogagaard Hasn't Done Anything Today

Seriously, dude.  I've had the focus of a spastic coffee drinking monkey.  The main problem has been the terrible fried onion/misc. smell coming from the apartment below, pervading every room of our apartment like a smell plague.  I drove to a science fiction bookstore in Minneapolis to escape, found myself getting depressed at all these old books the authors must have once hoped so much for, and I drove home again.  Still a terrible smell.  Again I left to evade the smells and walked to a coffee shop, where I read PG Woodhouse and chuckled dryley to myself for two hours.    Then I walked to the grocery store, bought a huge can of air freshener, and returned to spray everything in sight with chemicals, excluding the cat.  Still hopped up on mochas, I foresee an evening filled with video games and Twins baseball and maybe, just maybe, I'll write a poem.

Oh yeah.  I'm finally listed on the St. Martin's Press website.  Fancy fancy.

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