Life

So there is a tent in the middle of my office.

A tent.

The tent is fully assembled except for the stakes because the tent builder figured that they were not needed due to the floors being wood and all. But the tent is assembled and there is a lone cowboy shooting blanks in there too. No idea where the toy gun came from because toy guns are contraband in our household, based purely on principal, since I have had a concealed carry license in the past and own five real guns.

Toy guns are not allowed in my home since they give off they wrong messeage to unruly little ones. Violence begets violence, anger begets anger and something about putting someone else's eye.

Anyway, the tent is just sitting there, blocking my way to the exit and to the kitchen where the food is. Where the diet pepsi is...

Basically I am trapped in front of the computer now.

It is going to be a long, long evening.

{Do you notice how I am managing to write about my life and leave out all mention of the censored subject matter? It took me a little bit of thinking but I think I figured it out. Some of this material is simply too good to let it slip past me.}

Now, I have to go and hide from the Indians and Cowboys.