I’m sitting in my apartment in North Hollywood (CA) and the wind is gusting like a hurricane, except there’s no wind.
Shame Melin can’t see this post; she’s probably getting some of it.
“His eyes are as green as a fresh-pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard,
I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”
So let me get this straight:
The wind, of which there is none, is gusting like a hurricane?
Call me stupid, but
What?
I hate it when things go over my head.
Is this some kind of inside joke?
Read on Lex. “Let winds unnoticed whistle round your hill!”
Dr. Watson
Goddamn it! I meant to say, “There is no rain!” Mr. Rilch was talking to me when I was posting.
“His eyes are as green as a fresh-pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard,
I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”
I’m in the foothills and were losing trees right and left. Can’t sleep. Listening to it is like waiting for a train wreck. I’ll be very lucky if I don’t have to take off work today to remove our favorite Norway pine from the neighbor’s swimming pool.