My Incredibly Unremarkable Life
A Journal (more or less)

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I made today a work day and kept plugging away at all the poets and writers that ever existed in the New Orleans area.

Or it at least seems that way.

I'm into the cartons where almost every person has an individual (how do you like the way I avoid his or her?) folder. Those archival folders are not cheap, plus they take up a lot of room when you have only one or two sheets in each one. By the time I'm done there will probably be one less carton. (The inventory, however, will have each and every name ever mentioned listed. I do NOT look forward to doing that.)

I must have hit the commute at just the right time in each direction. Not a bit of slowdown either way. (Or maybe the idiots stayed home.)

At the moment, my plans for tomorrow are to take advantage of the weather and get some more done with the yard. I should probably continue trying to tame the azalea jungle.

Or shoveling out the house.

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