slappy new year!

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a dog.

As I’ve stated on this blog many a times, I’m an introvert. And as such, making a ton of new friends isn’t too high on my priority list. It’s right below getting a tooth pulled and just a smidge above picking up a transsexual hooker.

Why is it such a problem? I’ll tell you why.

baby birds and how about ’em?

Last week, I had the misfortune of working in a dusty old warehouse, dealing with dusty boxes, looking through dusty papers, breathing in dusty air.

Did I mention there was a lot of dust? Because there was. Everywhere. Dust.

Being continually exposed to such depressing surroundings has a way of bringing you down. As if having to worry about contracting emphysema wasn’t bad enough, I had to stare at a deluge of dilapidated documents the entire time and nothing else. Bo-ring.

So why am I bothering to mention such a mundane moment? Well, one day amidst the dreary doldrums of that dingy dungeon I happened to come across a little baby bird nestled in the corner of the ceiling. I could barely see its head peering over the nest. This little dude was tiny. He would come to be my source of entertainment for the next few days . . .