That’s about the only sound around here at the moment.
Aside from Lego Star Wars, that is, and the hacking Count Cougherton of Chokery Way. Which is to say, The Captain has managed to contract himself some summer, as the Nipper would say, bronchee-itis. And an ear infection. And possibly a sinus infection. THIS IS WHAT CLOWNS DO TO YOU, PEOPLE.
So a lot of the rant I had in me has been kind of zapped by tending to the sputum bucket, putting onions in socks, and making healing teas and electrolyte-rebalancing cool drinks. Because that’s how I roll, baby. That’s how I roll.
Also: I’ve been invited to do another reading. In public. Of my own writing. In Victoria Park. On Friday the 13th. At noon. Ish. In three days, I will regret having told you this.
Anyway, it has occurred to me lately that most of what you read here has been Yours Truly ranting about any number of things, and I just want to reassure you that Yours Truly isn’t all about ranting.
I bought new underpants!
Right. Maybe Yours Truly *is* all about ranting.