Creaky

There was a fine coating of pollen on the car this morning, suggesting that the winter forced-air-dryness allergies are being supplanted by the spring filthy-tree-sex allergies. 

Then, yesterday evening I tripped and fell heavily (I never grasped the technic of falling gracefully) at Penn Station in Baltimore, so that last night and today I have been nursing a painfully sprained and swollen ankle. 

It's possible that my customarily sunny disposition may be somewhat clouded over. 

So now I am at the paragraph factory to oversee the production of half a dozen sections by midnight or 1:00 a.m., making use of the long-neglected newsroom wheelchair, and giving a fresh sense to the term "hell on wheels." 

 

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