It's Friday and I'm going to do a puzzle. Weeeeeee.
I have a two-thousand piece puzzle of the Vegas strip I've been wanting to crack open for the past several months. The only surface in the house large enough for a two-thousand piece puzzle (other than our kitchen table, which we kinda-sorta use, you know, for eating and stuff) is a blueprint cabinet in the garage. It's flippin' ginormous. Now, what kind of masochist... or sadist... (I'm not going to bother looking them up to see which one I mean) must I be to sit out in my garage in the middle of an Indiana February working under poor lighting so I can wedge together a dismembered photograph of a place warmer and ultimately more exciting than my garage? Not much of one, it turns out. You see, my garage is equipped with two very bright work-lights which I can adjust to illuminate my work area, allowing me to satisfy whatever lighting need I may encounter. I also have an adequate supply of cherry cola out there, as well as several comfortable chairs, and a very capable space-heater. Also in my garage is a 51-inch television which makes pretty much every job I do out there take way longer than it should. I've hooked up some pretty nice speakers that you feel in your feet more than you hear in your ear, so pretty much any movie with explosions gets me a dirty look from Betsy.
It's Friday night and I'm going to do a puzzle. Weeeeeee. (For really real this time.)
Thank you,
Matt Beers
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