I will probably not even proofread this post before I publish it. I don't have that much time. So, if there are glaring typos or misplaced punctuation marks or misspelled words, blame it on the time crunch I'm under. I have to teach my Intro to Film class about 2001: A Space Odyssey in T-minus 25 minutes.
It's going to be a crazy week for me. My daughter is in a special musical program at school. She's dancing with the dance team at a football game on Wednesday night. Thursday is normal. And then Friday, we head off to the Wisconsin Dells for a dance convention. If I am still sane by the end of these next seven days, it will be a miracle.
My question for the Magic Holden 8-Ball is:
Will I still be sane in seven days?
And the answer from J. D. Salinger is:
"I'd like to--I really would," I said. "But I have a bad leg. I have to hold it in a certain position. I think I'd better sit down in the chair outside their door."
There you have. I really would like to be sane in seven days, but I have a bad brain. I have to hold it in a certain position.
Saint Marty will just sit down in a chair and wait for the guys in the white coats to come and get him and his pal, Harvey. You know, the big white rabbit?
|Me and my buddy. I'm the one in the suit, looking like Jimmy Stewart.|