Good Morning. In the spirit of slackness, I was up at three-something this morning to attend to the bladder alarm. The next thing I knew, Spile was knocking on the door asking if we were getting up. The clock read ten after six. I wondered aloud why my walking alarm didn’t wake me up. Mrs Magill said it did, then I returned to bed after using the bathroom at 5:03. Stupid dyslexia.
Squeaky and Mrs Magill have band camp today. I had just logged onto work when I got a call asking me to bring Squeaky’s water jug, lunch, and trumpet to school. You know, minor things he might need. (Slackard! 
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I slacked my way through college - I was a theater major. I directed two shows, both of which got very positive write-ups in the Raleigh Noise & Disturber, so I guess I didn’t slack too much, at least towards the end.
I don’t know how, but he found the chicken fingers I had hidden in the back of the fridge. He did ask, and I did say yes, so I have no one to blame but myself for the lack of chicken fingers for lunch.
I don’t think our paths have crossed too much, but welcome back! I am deeply sorry to hear about Fox.
I get to present today, so I am!
Swampy - I was not much of a stoner in school. Something about just getting hungry and paranoid. I was a slacker, though - see above about being a theater major - the only major where you can get course credit for staying up all night and drinking beer.
Have a good day, everyone!