It was a t-shirt, sighted on the trip, worn by a hiking girl, and I liked that too.

There was a mad random hailstorm this afternoon which slowed down the progress of trash day.

There will be no mention in future history books of Mr. Smith’s roid rage against Chris Rock, but in what passes for the fourth estate today, the story is edging out Ukraine in popularity, and outrage on both sides. Lord be with us.

If it’s Joe or Kamala or Donald or that FL governor douche or Hillary again, any of those creeping meatball fucks, my vote will be pure protest, probably a write-in, maybe even for Tulsi because she’s the blind squirrel who finds the nut of truth once in every long while, as in her comments on Biden’s regime-change gaffe. If it was a gaffe.

Plus the eye candy factor, sure, I won’t lie.

I got the Starlink thing sorted out for now, and maybe the Azure Standard one, and that sweet balance transfer deal the likes of which we won’t see again.

I unboxed the arriving bedliner, as in pickup bed, and I sorted the recycling in grand fashion.

Tomorrow is reconnecting with those cargo trailer upgrade guys, because while the trailer is done (on their end), I want the electrical connections on the truck itself checked as well.

Things are happening even when it seems like they’re not.