In which I muse over one perplexing aspect of owning a small business.
In which I rave about the film The Squid & The Whale.
In which I cannot drink a V8.
In which I take more photos of my cats.
In which I turn thirty-seven, and throw a poetry party to celebrate.
In which I praise the coming of spring.
In which I am male, white, straight, and wealthy, but despised because I do not believe in a god.
In which my Uncle Stanley is a very frugal man.
In which a customer pats my belly.
In which we finally have a sunny day, and I share photos from the yard.