We got a dozen crabs last night, covered the coffee table in paper and tore into them; with a sixpack of Coronas and some fresh corn, life was very, very good. I’m paying for it this morning, though—between a slight hangover and a steady diet of C02 fumes from the Scout’s broken exhaust, I feel like a doormat.

I did get the front door cleaned up and primed for painting yesterday; There’s some caulking and carpentry to be done but it should go smoothly. I’m also going to be a nice guy and build a simple storm window for the front… maybe.

Nate is out of the hospital and convalescing fine; donations can be sent to your favorite charity.

God damn it. I just want to be moved already.