Today is one of those days. Everything's in flux and not quite doing what it ought to be doing. Everyone (with a few expections) is getting on my last good nerve.
I'd love to pitch a fit because the cosmos is just not listening to me at the moment but, as the great grey poet once said: "I am the captain of my own ship." Or was that Tennyson? Well, whatever, a dead white guy spoke truth. I can dig.
I've been exacerbating my angst by gawking at pretty things. Please, gawk with me.
letterpress bird prints
I need to stop dicking around.
There's nothing below the fold.