I am so tired right now that I'm deaf. It's 5:30 a.m. We were up until 1: 30 packing.
I can't wait to open my eyes. It's gonna be so great to see again. I feel like a baby kitten. Only bigger. And distinctly un-cuter. And I have to feed myself. So never mind.
My wife Cat (no relation to kitten metaphor) and I are leaving in a half hour for the San Diego airport. From there we fly to ... somewhere ... Chicago, maybe? ... and then on to South Bend, IN., home to The Harvest Show (starring, tomorrow, ME!), and Notre Dame, home to the famous hunchback. I can't wait to see that guy. I figure he's pretty old by now. Probably doesn't do much swinging around by bellfry ropes anymore.
Wait. Did he ever do that? Or was that ... Tarzan of Notre Dame?Well, either way, I'm looking forward to seeing a famous misfit.
Yikes. I just realized I'm not even dressed yet. How lame. I'm pretty sure those top-notch Security Personnel at the airport would take notice of me in my goofball red flanel ("flanel"? Flannell? Flanal? Phlaneyl? How do you spell that really soft stuff that's like, Cotton's Mom?) pajama bottoms and T-shirt that Gomer's cousin Goober wouldn't be caught dead in.
Ahh. Mayberry, RFD.
I wonder what the "RFD" stood for? "Redistricted For Dufuses"? No, no--of course not. "Regular Folks Deluxe?"
What am I talking about again?
I"M SO TIRED.
Well, I'm off, now. Wish me luck on my First Television Interview ever. I'll bloorg at you as I go along, if I can, technically and all that.
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