|Espresso, "This beats tar pits on Bunday, don it?"|
|Espresso, "I can loaf like this and still look down on you all the from the floor!"|
|Espresso, "I know, I should write a book, 'The Art of Loafing,' right?"|
Good evening, Everybun!
So the day at the tar pits came and went. It's over for now, and the next event like this will be a few weeks away. Something, something - a murder mystery at a Dinner Theater - imagine that. Hanging out behind a table and collecting emails isn't that bad. But we'll deal with that when the time comes.
At least the days are considerably shorter. Why is that so comforting and alluring? We don't know. Maybe it's a longing for days when everything cools down: tempers, temperatures, news headlines. Bun can dream.
Here we only get to pretend the summer is ending, that the weather outside matches the mood inside for enjoying a good book. In a pinch, even a not-so-great book will do. It will still betray a ton of secrets if only about the author.
Good night, and good luck!