I’ve spent 21 miles running around a dam this week, skipping over graves.  The cost of that opportunity: work undone.  I’m so damned.

One of these nights I’m just going to get myself purposely locked in Dreamland (a.k.a. the cemetery) so that I can get some writing done.  Or just watch the stars all night.  I’ll have my cellphone so that I can order pizza through the gate.  And in the very early morning, I’ll climb the highest tree on the highest hill and wait for the sun to rise.

Plan for tomorrow:  Paint in the morning, some computer work at noon, more painting in the afternoon, then running in the late afternoon (perhaps) and making it a marathon distance for the week.  Yes, and trying to squeeze in a few blazing minutes of blogging.  Such short precious moments as I have for blogging anymore. 

Oh, hey, by the way, I extricated a girl of about 20 years of age from some imminent harm yesterday.  She was running barefoot from some angry dude.  And he was running after her.  Until I got in the way.  Details.  Yes, there are details.  But damn the details.

uh-oh.  The sun is about to set—time to scurry helter back to Skelterland.