Yesterday, I made a point to nap. For I knew the past 12 hours would be absurd, no matter how it turned out, so a nap was the best option. But I have trouble sleeping to begin with (I love sleep, I just don't do it that much), so napping is an even more difficult task. I napped. I wrote. I studied. I visited with a friend and ended up being at his house in South Philly until 3am, having to drive to the farm by 4am, but I still needed my costume which was located at my house in North Philly. Needless to say, I was running late. So I pushed ole Blu's heart as fast as it has ever gone before (Blu is my '94 Honda Accord), through the streets of Philadelphia to the back roads of Marple Newtown eventually to the farm, in an astounding 38 minutes. Upon arrival, I was informed that CBS was no longer coming due to the sudden death of Steve Jobs.
Frick.
It's not the farm's fault whatsoever. It's not even CBS's fault either. It's all Steve Job's fault.
Well, eff you Steve Jobs, you just had to die now, didn't you?
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