to Graham Chapman, of Monty Python fame, who would have been seventy-two yesterday.
Urinus Interruptus
So I'm minding my own business, in the bathroom, when the door opens. Of course the door opens - it's the cat, mortified by my human desire to eliminate alone and with the door closed. I suspect this need of ours for solitude somehow offends felines, who are smart enough to figure out bi-fold doors. We thought we had outsmarted him (and the dog) by installing the door backwards but this took only a day to figure out. For both of them.
The Car is Back!
After only three weeks and a day, our beloved car is back from the collision shop, fully repaired. For those of you keeping score, it's deer zero, us one, insurance four thousand, rental car seven hundred. It's most fortunate that I'm independently wealthy.
The wife is beyond joyous; she loves her car. I'm happy to not be paying for a rental, even if the seats were nicer.
Let me say something nice here about State Farm: they've been great and fast. No crap, no fuss, it's done. All insurance should work this way (take notice, health insurance).
A Word from the AntiSports
I don't usually bother but I came across this little factlet on the radio the other day: hockey is about to start again, after the lockout. Philly is the city with the least amount of ticket refund requests, at two-hundred.
Seriously, Philly, you are a huge, dirty city of enablers. You put up with crappy team performance and greedy millionaires. What do you do? You line up to pay them some more. You deserve what you get. You pay an egregious amount to simply park at football games, not to mention the now standard TSA-style groping.
In closing, I urge caution on the forced national panic about guns. There is obviously an agenda here.
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