The radio play Aslan is extremely, extremely bad. We laughed every time he spoke.
The timing was just about perfect: without skipping or backtracking or anything, Counting Crows's "Omaha" was coming on as we could see the skyline. (Which is bigger than it used to be, though it's still nothing much. Christopher and I used to joke when we were driving back from college: "There's the skyline!" "Where?" "Oh, you must have blinked.")
And when I got here there was a crisp apple, a fresh homemade caramel, and a couple of parents who were very happy to see me.
We're going to have Buffalo Company sandwiches for lunch (takeout -- this is the place where scottjames and greykev and Mike and I once went on a Friday night in full Ren Fest garb, which is a much worse idea than getting takeout from them on a Friday afternoon). And I'm reading The Dubious Hills, which is itself and a good thing. I'm going to help Grandma buy puppy toys, and if we do anything else of note today, it'll be an accident. Well, I'll probably print a cover letter for "Scribing a Line" on my folks' printer. But anything productive beyond that will be entirely coincidental.