Yes, it is the bottom of the ninth. I am up to bat, but down by a half dozen runs. How do I pull it out of the fire? My fat, I mean. I am busy mixing and mangling metaphors again.
I tried a bit of nude pool repair today. I got one crack secured and plugged. I spent about fifty per cent of the time wearing only sunscreen. It was hot. I got done as much as I could. And then it rained. So only one run in the eighth. I sealed at least part of one crack. But there are twenty-three still to go. And I have to make the pool hold water by the 9th of July. And it is supposed to rain again tomorrow. I suppose doing this as a fool naturist is stupid and self-defeating, but it was cooler in the hot Texas sun. I don’t think I will be doing that foolishness in public after all. But fixing the pool is not completely impossible. Just mostly.
I took a hit to my numbers on this blog by not posting for three days. But I published multiples in order to get caught up, and people are reading and liking them although they are full of the same nudist nonsense I have been pursuing for a week now.
But I am six runs behind. My fat behind may have gotten slightly sunburned. I need to score seven in the bottom of the ninth. Can it be done? Possibly. But I need to bare down and concentrate on the pitches coming over the plate.
Catch a Falling Star 