Full Belly Empty Mind

I strode elliptically through a Gothic castle where Vincent Price was up to no good before showering and heading to the kitchen. There I made a spicy cheese omelet, heated up precooked morning sausage, popped up some toast and alerted the denizens of this castle that breakfast was ready.

I'm stuffed. During the week our morning repast is whatever we feel like and in that case I'm usually good for a container of yogurt or a hard boiled egg. Sometimes just a muffin will suffice and none of these are consumed until after I've blogged, exercised and completed morning ablutions; the shave, shower, dress, insert coffee into veins kind of ablutions. It is often noon before I am fully clothed. No wonder I'm stuffed.

A young Indian man in shiny Sunday clothes - yellow dress shirt, blue slacks, polished to a high sheen shoes - just came up to the house and wandered about the driveway until I went out to talk to him. It is the custom here to not knock at your door, but rather, to simply walk in front of your windows until someone sees you. This, I guess, gives the householder the option of ignoring you or not. The man was looking for work and I had to tell him lo siento, mi hermano y yo hacen todo el trabajo. My brother and I do all the work. The man was very disappointed. Yesterday, another young man who had been part of the crew who did the painting on our house, came here with a puppy he wanted to sell. Lo siento, tenemos un perro and uno perro esta basta. We have a dog and one's enough. He was disappointed too. What amazes me is that we are not exactly on the beaten path. We are hard to find and even if you know where we are, it's a serious hike to get here. RTGFKAR says we should put a gate across our driveway so that we can be "a gated community." Of course, we have no walls or fences around any other part of the property so I commented the idea might not work.

I've lost track of what I was going to say. No, that's not true. I have NO IDEA what I was going to say. Let me think.

I saw the last 45 minutes of "Snakes On A Plane" last night. Lame movie, lame acting, lame snakes. Samuel Jackson should be ashamed of himself. I had been watching basketball until my eyes had began to stop blinking and go all coma on me so I surfed around the channels until I found Snake. Thought it might give me an adrenaline jolt and keep me awake through the North Carolina vs. Louisville tussle. No luck.

I've got a message on my screen that says "Could not contact Blogger.com. Saving and publishing may fail." I'm thinking this will be no loss.