Wow, Thursday already.
It remains seasonably cool here at the old homestead. Sub-freezing temps greeted me when I checked my phone while the Keurig peed coffee into my mug.
If you haven't figured it out over the past two decades, I lead with a weather report when I am struggling for content. Weather and sports are old and trite and yet still effective conversation starters. Why you would care about my weather conditions remains an unanswered question.
No, it doesn't, upon reflection. You decidedly do not care. I don't really care about your weather, unless you are in a place I am going. I may break down and buy a couple of lottery tix this week. Then I will care about the weather --in tropical island locations.
I would quit work should I win a lottery. I won't quit blogging, at least right away. I am just childish enough to rub your faces in it. Then I will quit blogging. I will be too busy sipping rum drinks in some place with palm trees to bother with it. I wonder what it costs to develop my own personal cigar blend...?
For now I will complain about the weather and get to work. That is a far more realistic reality. The Masters of the Matrix have no incentive to reward me with untold fortune. I would probably lose my money investing in Nigerian Bonds or something anyway.
I don't understand why people would head for the tropics. I would never head to a tropical place if I won the lottery. I've had my fair share of "fair" weather, and I'm over it. The bugs don't die (and get huge), it's too hot, and there are fire ants. Screw that. I'd be heading for the mountains.
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