Gripe Nuts

A postscript to my idyllic small-town description the other day: Went down to the bank this morning and the darn thing wasn't open, although its posted hours state that it should've been. Argh. Walked around the block with my coffee, came back and it still wasn't open. Bought a local paper and read the front page of each section (except sports, although I tried--what kind of American man am I?), and the bank still wasn't open, now 20 minutes into it's day. I walked home. I have things to do.

It sounds like you've had some things to do, too. Ten-twelve hour days take the juice right out of you, especially when there are a bunch of them in a row.

I'm looking forward to hanging out next week. I'll call you this weekend to make some plans.