… and the sun came up this morning. (But you couldn’t see it in Cleveland.)
Iran is on, no off, no on again, and off again in negotiations over uranium enrichment. Jon Stewart made me laugh again, and Rush Limbaugh is about to pop an artery over something or another. My son left the lid up; my daughter stepped right over a pile of her clean laundry in the hall for the fourth straight day.
Another bank either raised my credit card interest rate, lowered my credit limit, or both. The bagger at the grocery store would have put the Coke 2-liter on top of the Wonder Bread if I hadn’t stopped him.
Someone from Nigeria just sent me a personal note, addressing me as “Dear Kind Sir” and offering to give me several million dollars if I will help to launder it by providing my bank account number.
The bottom of my feet hurt a little bit when I got out of bed this morning, but I slept like a baby.
For these things, nobody is going to throw a parade on Broadway. So why should they when the most reliable dynasty in sports does the probable?
God how I hate the Yankees. How nice it would be if I could love them instead.
I could more easily stop being left-handed.