I figured out the Cedar Fever thing. It’s like an allergy only worse. And I didn’t have it until I went to that wedding, last weekend. I’m deathly allergic to weddings.
I was hiking the lake again today, a slightly shorter route, coming across the Congress Avenue Bridge, the winter wind whipping up from the river tussling my (very sparse) chest hairs (like all three of them).
It’s late January, and I’m working on a summer tan. And as the evening rolls into night, after a little bit of Hank Hill, I got the last of the rough draft of the romance done. Yes!
