Sweet Pea is a complainer when it comes to the weather. Earlier this week he came out of the garage just screaming at me, as if I, a mere mortal, could somehow do something about the ice falling from the live oak trees. I am not God. I am not Mother Nature. I am simply konagod. I can brew coffee. That's it. Sorry, Sweet Pea.
Sorry, there probably won't be a Virtual Outhouse tonight. The advertising world has done a number on me this week. Maybe tomorrow, if I'm feeling creative. I am about two sheets to the wind going on four.
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