Illegitimate Sun

Turns out I only need to meet 41,845 heterosexual females who are between 21 and 32 years old to find my soulmate. Also, I might have to move.

I think that I’ve met maybe 100 in a possible dating fashion. I’ve got to get cracking.

I had jury duty on Monday. Jury Duty is a lot like travelling by Greyhound. You’re trapped in a small seat, right next to strangers you would never meet otherwise, and there is some unidentifiable smell coming off of someone. Turns out that being friends with a cop makes you unsuitable to be a juror. Apparently my amateur understanding of the rules of evidence and investigative procedure could give undue weight to police reports and testimony from officers.

Had a weird week. The eye scratch flared up again after I wore my contacts for the first time in over a week. I also wore the wrong shoes one day. I woke up, showered and shaved, threw on a black suit and BROWN shoes. Okay, I know that this sounds trivial, but I can’t figure out how I didn’t notice the color. It troubled me all morning that I was so out of it.

To top that off, we’ve had storms pass through the area every other night. They haven’t been as dangerous as the tornados that ripped apart western Missouri, but they could be. We batten down the hatches every time they start.

Oh, it’s raining here now. Best sign off and take the computer offline.

Annoyances abound. I’ve scratched my eyeball. I have no idea how it happened; all I know is it hurts when I wear my contacts. Bleah.

Big plans for the weekend include the X-men movie, grappa, and a barbecue.

I’ve finished my latest book, The Miracles of Santo Finco, and have moved onto The Beautiful and the Damned.