some days this journal is about as much use to me as a pair of hog titties on a...well, on a hog.

other days, I kinda float around and peer at other people's journals--rarely commenting cuz Im just a quiet kinda guy--and then, on even rarer occasions, post my own.

and funnily enough, tonight Im in the mood to yak and I have nothing to say...giggle

cept:

cut the tipp'o my right index finger with a utility blade installing carpet. it doesnt hurt, but it sure fucks with my typing.......read the second half of Little Sisters of Eluria, the first three-quarters of Everything's Eventual, and another 20 or so pages of The Road to The Dark Tower by a man named Bev Vincent. (yes Bev is male. wonder if had had a girl-named-sue kinda childhood?) in my persute of everything DH.......cleaned house (well, Vic did a good bit of the cleaning, I just did dumb stuff like toss out trash and any heavy lifting) which required me to fix the shopvac so I can fix the hoover wind-tunnel. the shopvan needed a new filter, the windtunnel needed the passageways unblocked).......gonna read myself to sleep now.

thanks for listening and goo'nite to yer bad selves.