Want to kill me easily? Put a mini-claymore in my mouse.
The slightly less easy way? Make me fall for a girl.
Ah, the wanton click of a mouse.
Connections made, connections rended.
Wrought? Rent? Eh, I’m not not sure what the proper word is.
Either way, it’s temporary (in reality, a year and a half? more? i forget; seems shorter if you count the gaps of “connectivity”), but it she sticks with you.
Bah Humbug.
Anyways, I have better things to occupy my mind with than fickle women:
- Work
- Rebuilding my precious, precious town.
- Welcoming friends home, new and old
Perhaps, I have had too much to drink.
Perhaps, I am overworked and too tired.
As the 80th Birthday of my grandmother/family reunion motto goes:
“In Vino Veritas”
Bah Humbug.
I am generally unhappy, but yet, I am overjoyed at being home.
And while I would like to pin the unhappiness on a girl from Birmingham, I cannot.
The blame/weakness ultimately resides with my own self.