I was awoken today by the sound of a cat freaking the fuck out and a dog whimpering in confusion. I’m not sure what happened there, since it was in the Butcher’s room, but I eagerly await a report from him. I guess I should check to make sure that the animals didn’t kill him.
I’m still feeling crappy, but I must leave the house for something other than work. And, poor Mrs. Wigglebottom, who came sheepishly into the bathroom like she’d done something wrong, I bet she’d like to see something a little more exciting than our front yard.
I didn’t get to do a park review for Pith last week, so I think we’re going to get in the car here in a second and do Bordeaux Gardens and Timothy Bordeaux Park. I have no idea who Timothy Bordeaux was, but the obvious conclusion I have to draw is that it was customary for men of French descent in the area to call themselves Timothy.
A little Demonbreun joke for those of you following along at home.