And the birds flew right by and the earth made them sing
I spent the first half of Valentine's Day unromantically fulfilling some medical errands and then trying to sleep off a migraine, but in the evening I made keyn-ahora plans with
rushthatspeaks and
spatch and I ordered an accidentally four-person quantity of dinner from Chivo and watched Tales of the Tinkerdee (1962), an early fractured fairy tale of a Muppet curio whose relentlessly older-than-vaudeville gags we frequently missed from still laughing at a line about three jokes earlier. "A solid ruby gold-panning inlaid electric-fried antique!" After that I fell asleep on the couch.

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