Skunk Alert!

Sniff! Sniff! What’s that smell? Is that a SKUNK?! Jeez, something stinks in here. Smells a little like the air let out of an old bicycle tire. A little like the dead animals I used to remove from attics when I was doing pest control—the odor just before I got my head above the ceiling tiles, not the full charge blast of corruption after I was on eye-and-nose level with the critters. It might be like the fumes from dirty-laundry, but only if it’s all Seven Dwarves at once plus their cousin Smelly to boot. Oh, yes, Snow-white, let’s not forget the rank reek of socks that have been inside a pair of old Dwarf boots too long. I accidentally ran over some dog poop with the mower yesterday and that was a piquant odor! But it’s not that. None of the above. Ugh, I know what it is! It’s the burnt-rubber reek of Blogger Burnout! Clearly, my brain will have to be taken to the cleaners. And this place will have to be aired out. You can stay and try to disinfect the place if you like, but I’m gone. I’m not coming back until the stink is gone. Should take several days, at least.

---

This message, anyway, dammit, to Zandria and to Lu.

Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday, Dear Women Too Young For Me!
Happy Birthday to you!

(Be glad you’re too far away to hear it. I’m not a singer.)

---

And happy damn 100th post to me.

---