And... Go.

Then, one day, it's seventy degrees outside and margaritas start seeming like the best idea in the world. Time to start seeking out rooftops and patios. I'm catching a bus down to Charlottesville on Monday. Spending the better part of the week there, with few places to be or events to attend. An actual real-live vacation. Yeah. Spring is thus far a totally disjointed series of phrases and images that I'm not even trying to form into a cohesive whole. It's just stuff happening and things flashing by and falling-over tired and laughing a lot. The music needs to be louder. Sure, I'd love another drink. You're doing what? I'd love to, but I'll forget, could you remind me later? We need more of that. Open the windows. Yes, move to New York. Check THAT out. Yeah, I should probably get more sleep. High-five! Yes, please. I'll get to that one in a second. You like-a that one so much, we playa it for you again now. Easy, buddy. Faster. ...