He probably did later, back at Andy’s house.
Bump.
What was that thing they were making in Don’s kitchen? Some sort of cocktail?
Bump.
Oh, I missed that part. I just saw them in the living room.
Bump.
Yes, they were in the kitchen at one point, and following the instructions of somebody (chef? bartender?) on a Zoom call.
Bump.
Latest sunrise of the year, this morning.
Bump.
A bump, just because.
An early Tuesday bump.
A bright sunshiny day bump.
If we get one of those here, I’ll bumpin’ let you know. Sloppy snow in this neighborhood.
First day of vacation bump. Still in my jammies.
An early Tuesday evening bump.
Wednesday and errands.
Bump.
Back from the ophthalmologist. Bump.
Watching the mayhem in Washington.
Bump.
Hopefully from a safe distance. Don’t want to get bumped into by that bunch. Bump.
Yes, watching from home in Canada. No worries about my safety.
Bump.
A day that will live in infamy.
Bump.
That’s what some commentators called it; comparing it to December 7, 1941, and 9/11.
Bump.
Otherwise known as Eric Trumps worst birthday ever.
Speaking of which, I am not 65. Bump.
Neither am I, and haven’t been for a long time.
Bump.