Pete’s house is wonderful, and I am happy to wake up here in the morning – provided I fall asleep at night. In places to which I am unaccustomed, I lie awake and think terrible thoughts: I’m so tired breathing hurts, and What the fuck is wrong with those mouthbreathers at CNN? So: once again, I’m a bleary wreck.
We’re off to Home Depot to rent a spray-painting machine and five gallons of white paint. What could possible go wrong?