I was looking forward to a ride somewhere far enough away to require bungeeing a bag to my sissybar, but I guess that's not going to happen. What the hell is there to do on a weekend rained out and miserable? I could read the 25 journal papers on 4-hydroxynonenal I printed out yesterday, or the 12 on the mitochondrial pathway of apoptosis. But I won't, because I don't have it in me. I'll most likely just try to clean up around here and relearn how to cook etouffee without it tasting like a Texan cooked it.
I made a trip to the post office yesterday to drop off a package, and hopefully the damned thing will make it to the recipient in one piece. I'm not too trusting in the USPS, and usually have my crap sent by UPS or FEDEX; my new 110" folding motorcycle ramps came in two days ago via them and took 2 days less than was quoted to me. That's cherry and so are the ramps. No more rolling my bike down in the ghetto just for the high curb.
I won't go home this weekend. Maybe another weekend so I can disassemble the pig cooker I built (for my graduation cochon-de-lait, for the all of you who didn't read this journal more than like 10 months ago) and haul it back to let my uncle use it for a barbecue or somesuch. I'll try to remember to bring the 6-foot long dump-truck crank I found and install it as a rotisserie. It'll sure beat reaching into the fire and turning the pig with channel-lock pliers like last time; I still have the scar from touching the pipe bracket in the firepit. I will try to remember to get the pictures from that posted sometime.
Kind of a lame friday, I guess.