There’s a distinct possibility that I was still a little drunk when I woke up this morning.

The legend of the pit-smelling has spread.  Okay, so I’ve been telling the story a bit, but mostly because it’s funny.  Sadly, it usually results in more people wanting to smell my armpits—but thankfully, it’s generally agreed upon that, yes, there is something going on with the chemistry between my deodorant and my body that results in a very pleasant candle-like scent.  Thank Jeebus the stuff is doing its job.

So I’m working another 13-hour day tomorrow with most of my Elite Cadre of Idiots™ already gone on vacation, making the day significantly less fun.  Then on Wednesday, I work a partial day and then begin therapy—500 miles of road with a metric assload of music to sing along to.  The Silver Streak launches at 3pm that afternoon… if I can get out early enough to miss the main wave of Los Angeles traffic, I expect to hit warp speed somewhere around 5pm.  I can only hope that all the stuff that’s weighing heavily on my brain can’t travel fast enough to keep up.

Citizen Cope - “Son’s Gonna Rise” (featuring Robert Randolph)