Well, pretty much everything that could go wrong at The Chief's BOTE, did go wrong. R.G.P. out sick. Appointments with the oral doctors abound. (L.U.E. & M.F.C.) B.S.J. had a sick car and, after a phone call, announced it would not be in for the weekend, leaving moi marooned at the end of a tiring day. Friendly little fist-bump from O.X.U. regarding the charming little KLX300SM. Back to the BOTE at 20H to drive B.S.J. to its hangout . . . and of course the people, they observed sagely the date and day — Friday The Thirteenth.

And after the eleventh day and the breakdowns and etc. my playful request to appear at a more human hour was playfully swatted because: what if there are more troubles and my presence was helpful . . .

My crazy little Spanky — this is a Day Book; it's not all that well edited. (Meaning that it ain't edited at all.) I will continue to say this to you: you need to relax. 😘