When I jogged (very slowly and painfully, but I have no choice since Trevor talked me into signing up for a half marathon this May) through the golf course this morning, I saw that the Guy is still sleeping in his Spot. He had a lot less stuff with him today, which is puzzling. Someone seems to have swept around him. Given that most of the dirt here (driveways and front yards, for example) is regularly tidied by broom, I guess this is possible, though I've never seen anyone sweeping the golf course before.
Also, I am having one of those days that makes it hard to keep my sense of humor about Peace Corps and Zambia, and it would probably be cathartic to write all about it but I would almost definitely get in so much trouble I would end up home much earlier than May, so let's just say that I have some concerns about the way our tax dollars are being spent overseas and I have had it up to HERE with leering and commentary about my exercise habits and marital status.
This is one of those times that it would be nice for running to be a stress-reliever rather than a blood-pressure-raiser. Ah well.