I know 8:26 is too early to call the Professor, but I want to be doing something completely different today. I don’t know what “completely different” looks like, exactly, but I know that, if the Professor’s not busy, she’ll be game for it.
I’m starting to wonder if the Clinton game plan, to just push ahead in spite of what all everyone says isn’t slowly working on me. I mean, in my understanding, there is no way for her to win the primary–that it is now mathematically impossible. And it is my understanding that, back when everyone agreed, everyone agreed that Florida and Michigan would lose their delegates if they moved their primaries up.
And yet, I have to tell you, I find her continued campaigning and her continued insistance that the Florida and Michigan votes should be counted oddly compelling. Not in the “Oh, god, I hope Clinton can squeek this out!” way, but in the “maybe there’s some validity to her claims and I’m just not reading or hearing from the people who can make me understand the argument.”
I don’t know.
What I really want to do is eat homemade guacamole.
But I have neither homemade guacamole nor the fixings for it nor the Missus/the Primary Wife’s (I think they’re both using the same recipe) recipe and so I’m kind of stuck. I wonder if it would be rude to call either of them before nine in the morning?
And I need to clean out my car.
But, maybe, by the time I clean out my car, I can kidnap the Professor and make her make me guacamole using a recipe which I will procure by posting my hopes for it here in hopes the the Missus reads it and sees this post like a Bat Signal… or, in this case, a Guac Signal.
The drawback to a real Guac Signal of course would be that it would look like a giant green blob, which would be oh so easily and oh so tragically confused for the Booger Signal. I can’t even begin to tell you how gross and traumatizing that mix-up would be. I leave it to your imaginations, dear readers.
Anyway, as you may have guessed, I’m dancing around the subject most dear to my heart at the moment. What they want for the house is too much. Not too, too much, but more than other houses in the area are going for per square foot. I want to pay what other houses in the area are going for, roughly. So, I’ve made them an offer that is just a little too little, hoping they’ll come back and say “What about this price right in the middle?”
So, that’s that. There’s not much more to say at the moment, other than, if you’ve ever been inclined to buy, say 8,000 Tiny Cat Pants t-shirts to hand out at your family reunion or your church picnic or just as a way to make sure your street gang is easily identifiable (I’m looking at you, Brown Pride! You’re BP; I’m BP. You wouldn’t even have to change your graffiti. Hell, British Petroleum, same with you. You wear my logo; I’ll wear yours.), now would be the time to do it.