Friday, April 6

I get out of work early and bicycle back home. Biking hurts both legs and lungs, the former due to laziness, the latter to poor habits of old. Home now, the Lady and I sit on the couch. Out comes my Jim Beam 2.0 -they call it "Devil's Cut," a name easily remembered if only for its tremendous stupidity. But as I've written prior, it's better than normal Beam. Less sickly sweet. It has some pepper and a little bite. I mix it with something or another lemon, over ice. A weak man's bourbon, to be sure. I make no pretences here. I have a second and grow more tired. Tomorrow Lazarus gets himself evicted from the grave. Sometimes your crucifixion comes a week late.