I came into this one with absolutely no preconceived notions as to what I would write. This one’s all about taking up space. Ah, what lofty ambitions I harbor. It’s been a while since I’ve posted for five days in a row, and I’ve got what I intended for today’s entries safely tucked away on my hard drive at work – so I’m all set for tomorrow. It’s today I’ve got to worry about.

I was a little embarrassed with myself today. Although I’ve got no love for what I feel is the greatest threat to western civilization this side of the Potomac, namely, Cracker Barrel, I found myself agreeing to eat lunch there with my co-workers. Not one smart remark, not one hint of dissent. Man am I a wuss. Cheryl happened to call me just before we left. She asked me where we were going, I told her, and she laughed at me. Man that’s cold. The Cracker Barrel phenomenon doesn’t bother her a bit, but she knows how I feel. We are married after all. Love hath no bounds, unless there’s an opportunity to salt the wounds, then all bets are off baby!

Athor’s note: Did you know that I had a really hard time finding “wuss” in the dictionary? I didn’t have a freaking clue if I spelled it right. If I’m going to call my self something, I figure I ought to spell it right, even if it is just slang. Ain’t that right cuz?

Author’s note, part deux: “ain’t” was in the dictionary, but “cuz” wasn’t.