I got to work today at three ten.  By three fifteen I was crouched on the concrete floor of a... a hallway, I guess.  It was really quite bunker-like, a part of the building I'd never been in before.  About forty five minutes later, I emerged from the bunker with a numb ass and no other injuries or inconveniences.  Part of the ceiling of the breakroom had fallen in, though.  And so ends the tale of, oh, the seven thousandth tornado of spring.

After months and months of pondering and one really bad idea (reenacting this and writing about it), I've finally arrived on the subject of my stunt memoir.  More about that to come.

Today is my half birthday.  I celebrated with an iced coffee and, later, some Bugles.  I love Bugles.  Even though their name looks very, very misspelled no matter how I correct it.

I think it's bedtime.  G'night.

PS Is someone out there superwise about all things corporate America?  I'd like to solict your advice.