[Hand out, palm down, words slurring]
Guys.. guys... shh... You know I love you. You know I love writing this blog every single freaking night, rain or shine, sick or well. Last night I couldn't sleep at all. I had to get up early to be in Fort Collins early for a sales meeting. I had time to pop by the house on my my way to Boulder, so the neurologist could run some tests (in which he had me lie on my side, away from him, while he zapped my legs with electric shocks of increasing intensity until my muscles picked themselves up without my consent, and for the record... OW!). I was exhausted by the time I left the condo, where I'd gone after the test, to do some painting and floor cleaning. I barely made it to the grocery store, and after that I raced home, fast-cooked some garlic potatoes and turned over steaks to the neighbor to grill while we watched the opening game of the NFL season. I had WAY too much wine, way too little sleep, and too much steak and potatoes. The game isn't even over and I'm home, clothes off, ready to lie spread eagle, waiting for the wine to metabolize and my stomach to stop feeling so full. I don't want to write anymore. I love y'all so much, but this is plenty of word salad for one night.
Here's Barley, who gives his daddy high fives every time the Chiefs do well at football. For reals. Love this dog.
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