So... scooter. It's all charged up and ready to go. And so am I.
I'm actually starving but it makes no sense to eat anything before going to a large, lavish buffet followed by a game where they bring you whatever you want to eat and drink - all part of a paid-for package. So I'm saving my hungry. I've got about 30 minutes til time to fire up the scooter and head out.
The no chat hair cutter with the dog cut off way too much of my hair but it's my fault. He asked what I wanted and I said "You gave me a great cut 12 weeks ago so I'd like those 12 weeks cut off." One of the benefits of old age is 1. knowing for absolutely sure that it will grow back (and I'll be be bitching about having to get it cut way too soon) and 2. not giving a shit. It means I can cut out the conditioner and bothering to even run a comb through it so kind of a win anyway.
I had another work dream last night. I've had a bunch of them recently. Different jobs at different places - all interesting and fun ones. I nearly always enjoy work dreams. They don't pay too well but they don't interfere with my Social Security payments either.
Ok. Time to don my Mariner game togs and hit the sidewalk.