LOW VITUPERATIVE EBB

It rained quite heavily this morning, which made getting to work more interesting than normal. Usually I zone out on the trip over, occasionally opening my eyes to scope out people getting on -- the cute young miss in downtown Sausalito, the lady with the white brimmed hat further down opposite the 7-eleven, or the goobus Persian hausfrau at Gate Five Road -- or to keep a wary eye on the crazies, which are slightly more numerous in inclement weather, because nobody likes being out of their minds in a downpour.

Today, having caught the earlier bus, I was able to view the hills west of the Golden Gate shading seawards in gloom and semi-twilight. Quite beautiful.

It was still raining when I got off and splish-splashed toward the holding pen for senescent righwing dipwads where I work. Got stuff done with furniture and a hot cup of tea well before any coworkers appeared, had a pipe filled with red Virginias going by ten fifteen.

It stopped coming down sometime after twelve, but it never brightened. A good day to be inside. The old crocks were quieter than they normally are, probably because the loudest irritant was absent. He may have melted in the rain. Or he's scared of the chemicals in the precipitation eating away at his bald spots, possibly leading to a mangy appearance and horrid itch. That is to say, a worse itch than usual.

So it was a good day.



By the way: According to my apartment mate, who has been reading up on things, everything that's good for you makes you fart. I found this out when I got home.





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