In the cool pre-dawn twilight, early enough to see the bats returning to their home downriver, I wondered what I was doing awake. Even the cat wondered what I was doing up so early. I did go back to sleep, after figuring out that I didn’t need to do anything which required turning on the lights. I’ve been working with my neighbor, hassling about the Lawn Mower Racing effort, too. It looks like we’ve already pulled together a complete team, we’re just missing one essential ingredient: pit bunnies.” Applications are being accepted,” as Jeff said. Looks like we’ve lined up some sponsors, too. I was busy knocking together a web page about the “unnamed Lawn Mower Racing Team” when I feel asleep last night.
I was supposed to have a dinner date with a Virgo this evening. When I got in from long afternoon in the sun, though, there were several messages waiting. One was from the Virgo, had to cancel. It’s okay, I’m used to be stood up by pretty women. Then there was a message from some guy at the local paper:
>Would you be interested in chatting with me about what you do, why you do
>it and what kind of response you get from your readers?
>
>Look forward to hearing from you.
>
>(my birthday, incidentally, was April 5.)
I’ve suffered at the hands of the local press before, a long time ago in Dallas, then again here, locally. According to them, I’m a redneck. Just because I live in a trailer park, and just because I have fishing poles and a dead cow skull on my patio, and just because I take a serious dislike to any kind of a tie besides a bolo tie, does that make a me a redneck? It’s warmed up nice in Texas, and anything besides a pair of shorts is probably too much attire. Is that so wrong? And does hoping that the Virgo just might want to reschedule, does that indicate that I have too much hope? Is there such a thing as too much faith in a Virgo?
