I spent this past weekend at the cottage. This one will be in the Valley, where among other things I need to mow the lawn. The lawn is likely shaggier than my hair.
I mean...
Here is my hair, a webcam photo taken a moment ago.
The hair is glorious, full-bodied, and beautiful in every sense of the word. Fabio fighting frost giants would not have such lovely hair. I truly feel sorry for people who haven't met me, and basked in the glory of my hair.
At any rate, while it is so therapeutic and relaxing to discuss my hair, it doesn't change the fact that I have hours of work ahead of me on Friday, mowing the lawn. While I am there doing that, Patricia will be doing the same thing at the cottage, so we will be separated for the weekend. I know she will miss my hair.
On Saturday will be the 17th annual Port Williams Days, where among other things will be the village-wide yard sale. I have never missed one of these yard sales. I am trying to downsize my possessions, but we do need a newer spatula, so if I can find a good plastic one, it's mine, baby. Get your own. Get your own damn spatula, you spatula-coveting son of a gun you.
It is getting late. I spent quite a bit of time tonight working on my latest media column for Frank. Think I will turn in.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
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