Mrf, with a capital "mrf"

Hey, you know what I love? A revving bucket truck directly outside my bedroom at 3 a.m. so two guys can fix the overhead power lines! Wait, no, sorry, not "love". The other love. Hate. Haaaaate. It's 20 to nine in the evening now, and I'm already forced to type this with my face because it's the only way I can make anything happen with my somnolent flesh suit.

Good productive day, though: I finished prepping for my next video on my YouTube-channel-that-I-haven't-discussed-here-yet-because-I'm-waiting-for-the-big-long-post-that-I'm-not-doing-now-because-see-above-about-3-am-bucket-trucks. The prep/writing part is a long slog, so I am damned glad to be done with it and not displeased with what I've got. If all goes well, filming will be tomorrow, voice-over taping will be Friday, and then editing will be over the next 47 years. Watch this space.

I would also like to say that when we watched season 1 of Only Murders in the Building recently, I picked the murderer by episode 3 and now feel very clever. Thank you for your attention to this matter.