I can’t believe I’m sitting here watching Survivor, season...whatever. It’s because I’m at loose ends. Actually, I don’t even know what loose ends are, but here they are and I’m at them. (You have to laugh when the footage editors make it look like a gorilla is just on the other side of a shrub listening in on private Survivor conversations.)
Anyway, rain is pattering relentlessly on the roof. Gabe is computering across the house, as usual. Fredfred, in one of those ridiculous belly-up dog postures, has the prime spot on the couch, and I’m on the floor in the hopes that my left hip bone will quit irking me.
And you know what? I have nothing further to say, because they gave me neither a script, nor a clear assignment, nor a roadmap.
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