So, I made it over to Ashland City just in time for the McCain/Palin rally. Unless I was late. Either way, there were five old white people there. So much for stirring excitement.
Then I came back, Frontline in hand, and washed the dog. The tub is so nice for washing the dog because it has a nice wide lip for her to balance on as she gets in and out.
And then we went outside so she could dry and I enjoyed the hammock. I can’t believe we have a hammock. God, it’s so beautiful out there in the back yard, just swinging between the trees.
I wanted to try the hammock yesterday but the Butcher has this rule that you have to wear pants in the hammock.
Ha, you know, I laughed so hard because I was thinking of how Kathy and the Professor were convinced that he would never get laid with his room being the green it is and now he’s got this rule that you have to wear pants in the hammock. I might have all the nephews I’m ever going to get.
Tiny Cat Pants 
Is this a canvas hammock or a rope hammock? ‘Cause the rope hammocks inflict graphpaper-butt if you don’t wear pants.
Of course. How else do you account for the ease with which I bed engineers? Those poor math dudes just cannot resist graphpaper-butt.
With the right kind of rope hammock, you could get hexagonal-graphpaper-butt. Then you could bed tabletop fantasy roleplaying gamers.
I only wish I’d known that in college.