Welcome to Monday evening, folks.
I write these humble, sub-par, slightly pathetic words in my home office. Newbie is in the chicken box on top of the computer desk. He seems to have abandoned climbing atop the entertainment centre by the doorway. Probably so he can be closer to me.
I just finished writing the first draft of my next Frank magazine column and will polish it during my lunch hour Tuesday, and keep researching more stuff for it before my Wednesday evening deadline has drawn nigh. Not that you care or anything. I am writing this in case my editor reads this and is wondering whether I'm dicking off.
I am trying something slightly different with this column. I won't get into details because I want you to buy the magazine and see for yourself, but I will state that instead of running a vintage radio picture with my column, I am submitting something else. I think you will find it very interesting, but the only way to confirm that is if you buy the magazine when it comes out next week. Deal?
Today's drive in to work was another adventure. We got another snow storm Sunday, and of course Halifax city streets were hit and miss as to whether they had been plowed. I guess they haven't heard of salt, these people. And I guess expecting a snow plow to have gone through most streets 24 hours later is asking for too much. At least roads were better when we got home.
There is not much else to report. Newbie snores like a little girl. Patricia is probably preparing to collapse after a long day. And I think I will check out Netflix before I turn in just because I want to, and I can.
So I will.
See you tomorrow.
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