Because for the past couple of weeks, I've had more important things to do than amuse you. Not necessarily more fun, just more important.
For some years, my wife has suffered frequent chronic pain from a bulging cervical disc, and on MLK day it decided to go "full bore" and severely pinch a couple of nerves, leaving her unable to lift anything heavier than an coffee cup for a couple of days, and bouncing from clinic to ER to clinic getting X-Rays done and MRI's scheduled. She's doing better now, and we've finally got a doctor to start paying attention to it, so maybe instead of getting a new script for Flexeril every time this happens, she'll get TREATMENT, and maybe even permanent relief.
This last week brought business travel with it, and instead of blogging in the evenings I was in Florida drinking. So there. I thought for a bit I wouldn't make it back, too. First, there were a bunch of bored Floridian kids throwing molotov cocktails all over the place, slowing me up. As if that weren't enough, once I got to the airport i found out my flight was delayed, so late that my connection was in danger. So I cried out for magic - both to wreak vengeance on the teens and salvage my travel plans. Shortly a short, gnomish old dude came to the gate, made the Sign of the Devil and told me I would make my connection. I did.
Now these two items don't account for 100% of my time, but they do account for a lot of it. The rest of the time I just didn't have it in me. But I think I do now.
In short: The Mechanic (1972)
20 hours ago