Well, my car is dying. And yesterday the Firestone guy, when I was explaining the problem, asked how many miles are on the vehicle

"Ninety thousand," said I.

"Well, if I rode you for 90,000 miles, what kind of shape would you be in?" he asked. "My back would hurt."

I have the best baby brother/ 24-hour blog tech support ever. Travelonious, you rock. I cannot sleep. I mean, I think I sleep through the night, but I also recall during waking hours some of the most squirrely dreams imaginable, and I am so tired. As long as I'm not in a Boston homeless shelter with Boys II Men (aw, yeah baby), I'm ok. Go to the happy place.