fatso ratso is back.
henceforth, he shall be known as frank. were he human, he would smoke cheap cigars and display a disconcerting smudge of whatever he had for lunch on the front of the tattered undershirt he believes to be an over-and-final-shirt.
i was moving the cutting board cart back into place after loading the dishwasher when he rans out of the pantry, through the next room, towards the hall. i was so startled that i did an involuntary spin and missed his escape route. we're pretty sure it's the linen closet, also home to the furnace, that, like the hot water heater, very probably has a gaping hole below it.
in other news, i hope this song rings true v. soon:
grab your bag and grab your coat
tell the ones that need to know
we are headed north....
oh brooklyn, brooklyn, take me in.
i'm kind of bummed that the avett brothers just played in b'ham last weekend and i never realized that they sang that...
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