I already have a copy of The Princess Bride, but if I didn’t, I’d get the forthcoming Dread Pirate Edition.

Usually I offer to stay late on Sunday for the relief guy who comes in at five. Today, that was Frank. But it is such a beautiful day, and it was so slow, that the thought of spending another three to four hours cooped up in the store was unbearable. Instead, I’m home and plan on spending an exciting evening of cleaning, dishes, and laundry.

I saw a ‘98 Wrangler listed on an internet sales page for two-thousand dollars. Same year, model, and color as my ‘98 was, with forty-thousand extra miles, at a dealership forty miles away. Very possibly my old Wrangler. Relax, parents, I didn’t buy it, just wished that I’d been in a strong enough financial position not to have sold it three years ago in order to buy the Celica, that’s all.

Neckbone’s going on vacation which means I’ll have driving privies with his Wrangler starting next Sunday. It’ll be my fix and keep me satisfied for at least six months.

Teasing Zebulon about his car — a honkin’ ugly piece of Ford machinery that’s five years younger than he is — he defended what he described as a beautiful vehicle, “It’s a beautiful shape of silver.”

“… eh?”

“Shade. Beautiful shade.”

Yeah. Sure that’s what he said. Sure.