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Thunderbolts and lightning - A little less than a happy high
komos
komos
Thunderbolts and lightning
Yesterday, after a decent night's sleep, I left the house with Pete singing counterpoint for me for Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It was one of those perfectly absurd moments that coalesce effortlessly and perhaps in spite of any other plans. Our presentation was more mock-operatic than rockin', and we stopped somewhere in the "I'm just a poor boy/Nobody loves me" phrase. There was not an AMC Pacer in sight. No Gremlin, either.

I'm now officially convinced that I don't get out enough.

This morning, after a restless sleep, I scrambled to get four weeks of recycling (Why yes, we did miss the last pick-up, why do you ask?) out to the curb after having my breakfast interrupted by the distinctive sounds of the recycling truck. Though I confess that the experience was invigorating, I'm not sure I was fully prepared to do laps up and down our stairs laden with bags full of intended-for-reuse jars and bottles.

I'm a little off today, and am currently contemplating sushi lunch.


ALSO: It looks as though Pete will be brewing an alt on Saturday, probably in the afternoon. Standard invitation applies, though when the evening hits, I'll be headed over to Chef Zero's place to judge Bacon Battle.

There's another Iron Chef due at my place, too, and I've got something special planned. I'll keep you posted.
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