Does that describe a day? I guess it does. Up, take a bath, go to work, design a set of web pages that will need to be redone tomorrow, cereal for breakfast, soup for lunch, bread, cheese and whiskey for dinner. MSJ's Labradore's surgery was successful, fifty stitches, a dog that was rescued from a puppy mill, a dog that knew days of starvation, who will always remember those days and therefore eat inappropriate things she finds in the yard. In this case a sponge, probably thrown over the fence by the kids next door. MSJ rescues Labradores, as many as she can. Good for MSJ and all the MSJ's of this world.

That was Wednesday, this is similar to yesterday Thursday and I am sitting here slightly fried on whiskey and the late afternoon sun. I walked in to work this morning, but took the bus back to the base of the hill. Crapped out. Puffed my way up the incline. Took the elevator to my floor. Checked the mail. Opened the door to the balcony and turned on the bedroom fan. Sat down on the foot of the bed to take off my shoes. Some question as I'm sitting there whether or not the bed will collapse. Wuss is busy checking out the first shoe as it hits the floor with his nose. If the bed collapses will it fall on Wuss and crush him like a bug, the little shoe pervert? I don't think so, but this so far is the excitement of the day, lunch at the Spaghetti Factory a close second. Real rock and rollers me and my coworkers, lunch at the Spaghetti Factory in Jack London Square, the result of a quick trip on the free shopper shuttle. Brought the camera along, but not a single picture. Six bucks for what was a pretty good meal. Service sucked, but, what the hell, six bucks.

I ramble on. Sorry about the size of the photographs, but I'm in a futzy mood.