I filled the tank in the Zed Three yesterday, from bone dry to brim-lippin' full, with 89 octane gas for less than $20. That's the first time I've done that since... well, before I started blogging, at least.
I met Staghounds for lunch at Calhoun's and corrected the horrible dietary deficiency I've developed (BBQ ribs contain an enzyme necessary for life; lack thereof causes one to say "you guys" instead of "y'all".)
Went by McKay's (the best used bookstore I know of) but it was a madhouse, so I bid adieu to Staghounds, and went back to casa de Gunsmith Bob. We made a second assault on the North Face of McKay's later in the afternoon, and the crowd had thinned out somewhat. I picked up my first Stephen Hunter novel, some non-fiction stuff, and I decided to give Oh John Ringo No's Posleen universe another try, because everyone keeps telling me that Watch on the Rhine is a good read. Y'all better not be pulling my leg. I also tried to find some boxed sets of House on DVD. Fail.
I stopped by the outpost of the vast petroleum conspiracy at which I worked briefly, and had my old job offered to me again. It's nice to be missed; apparently good help really is hard to find these days.