flight of a dodo

[click image]

I'm going for a tromp.

And if you still insist I'm just too much of a goddam Russophiliac for your blood, just take a gander at this short video, and get back to me on that one please.

[Sometime later: Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Every single damn time I get myself all put together for a nice long tromp it starts raining before I'm twenty feet from my door. I checked the damn radar! Bubkes. Little cells just keep materializing out of nowhere right over me. I was even DRESSED, silent, and not going for the cliff! I was headed for the trees... which would have turned out to be one of those gigs where the drips are bigger while less frequent and I wasn't up for doing both cold and wet. One or the other, but not both. So now I'm going for one of my legendary bathing ordeals in my not-a-bathtub, where I soak part of me at a time in a truly unlovely progression of steps. Granted there are forty pounds less of me to cause me to roll my eyes in existential humiliation now, but it's still just too depressingly ridiculous to be borne, even so. Waaaaa. Don't send me any more e-bathtubs either because I'm just going to cry. You don't know how close I am to purchasing an old clawfoot to put in my garden and shock my neighbors as I soak in it every evening. I'm really getting desperate enough to freak them out, I miss my evening tubs so badly.]