So I got back Sunday afternoon, slept for 18 hours, caught the Lovely Bride's cold, and am dragging myself around the house like some tomb-lost lich, bemoaning my fate and trying to keep up with various promises.
More later, when I recover. Promise.
Born in the 1900s
-
Or: How old am I, really? I’m seeing this a lot of late, and it bugs me. It
bugs me enough that I got out my trusty Chicago Manual of Style, 18th
edition, ...
5 days ago