It's 9 o'clock on a Saturday, and the regular crowd shuffles in . . .
Which means I'm parked on the couch with C.C. and Mike watching crime TV. Googling how to clean a fiberglass tub and Rocky and Bullwinkle DVDs.
I need something to do. But it has to be near a bathroom. Without a line. Because I'm still fighting my vacation parasite. Self-diagnosed. Googled it.
Really? This is what I'm doing on a Saturday night?