But they're so, so far away, and this belly thing keeps getting in the way. If you want them polished, how 'bout I let you do it when we rendezvous in Arizona. Any color you want!

Spooky orchid wall paint (Valspar "Sassy Lilac" or "Sassy Violet") is my fave.

Google it. It is the perfect shade. I was so impressed Valspar, being earthen-based, could get so pure a violet. I had to do acrylics for ultramarine or royal and spray for hot pink. The bathroom was hot pink, until I tried to get the ink off some PVC we wanted to use for assembly at work. The solvents did not touch the ink, which was baked-in, but it took the color off the wallpaper.

I had a stucco wall painted with Sassy Lilac. It, too, is a beautiful color, but I couldn't stand it after staring at it with a terrible fever. It evoked images of a big, purple creamsicle glacier. It's hard to explain. High fevers work horrible conditioned responses with me. It is why I cannot stand tarentellas to this day.

Titanium white - how joyous! It saves on the lighting bills and makes reading a whole lot easier. Stark white is also a great color for mesmerizing me.

I loved interior decorating. Now it seems a shame to waste money on the arts when everybody around must protest for all the children who, having cell phones, computers with apps and nooks, and all kinds of expensive toys, have no money to eat for days, even with food stamps and soup kitchens galore. Then, any donation to the truly poor gets gobbled up by evil dictators. So, like an uncreative alcoholic, feeling helpless to better anybody's situation, I blow my fortune on Moody Blues concerts and taxes, because that is what is familiar. I've worn the rut, and I know it is safe, in a distorted sense.

Consult Lodgey. He's the master of anachronism.

Lodgey will probably tell you that you will write it - before. I'm not being mean. You know I appreciate Lodgey's sense of humour.

On the topic of whining, there's this word "anyway" that works a whole lot better. I tried it last night, and, well, it was rather funny I think. Now a song has come into my mind, so I will hop threads.

One of the great things about freelance writing is being to negotiate the pay. That is, I was able to trade in my dual-sponsorship Moogfest press pass for the borrowing of the publisher's credit card to get a semi-decent, semi-cheap ticket before payday. What, me whine?