At some point, the lateness of the hour suggests that "today's" entry was actually written "tomorrow" for "yesterday." It's been four years since I missed one of these, though, so I'll be damned if I miss it over a little thing like the tyranny of the clock.
Late at night, there's nothing but cop shows and hour-long commercials that the channel guides euphemistically call "paid programming." I sit at the dining room table, singing country music songs to myself, tying labels to glass containers filled with butterflies while on TV men and women get arrested for various misbehaviors that, in the grand scheme of things, aren't bad enough to really warrant the kind of treatment they get.
One year ago: Cleaning Up The Meth You Made
Two years ago: Booze Is a Depressant
Three years ago: Which Explains a Lot, Really
Ten years ago: Putting it Together
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