Sitting in the front yard, sipping whiskey and smoking a cigar, looking at just how much 5K can crap up your whole yard. Thanks, broken water line. Thanks, home-ownership. Just thanks. Sooo much.
I brought three cigars home from the Keys for a friend, but I'm afraid one of them has been sacrificed to the water gods this evening. Hope Papa Hemingway appreciates the slow burn that's going down this dark, quiet night--amdist the low burrr of singing insects, humidity and Southern heat.