I'm not one to complain. I certainly won't begin now. However, I would like to set the record straight regarding the bandied field of kitchen maintenance, washing dishes to be specific.
From the start, my pledge to you has been to cut the nonsense and usher you closer to the research you seek within our humble website. If you have a moment, look back at these entries:
Folks, I won't bore you today with a lot of mumbo-jumbo about my childhood or current friendships in distress. You don't want to hear it, and you shouldn't have to.
Folks, in my last entry I introduced my childhood friend Sherwood Day. What I failed to mention is that he recently moved into my subdivision and consequently began dragging me to academic lectures and silent movie marathons.
Cherished blog patrons, I may have misspoke last week when I suggested you had likely arrived at a point in our engagement when you wished you knew me personally. Why should you?
I can share with you a memory from my childhood with an aim to quiet your hunger for the days when my infectious manner was but a plump bud quivering in anticipation of an explosive radiant peel.
