Monday, monday (ba-da ba-da-da-da)
So good to me (ba-daba-da-da-da)
Monday mornin, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh monday mornin, monday mornin couldn’t guarantee (ba-da ba-da-da-da)
That monday evenin you would still be here with me
Monday, monday, can’t trust that day
Monday, monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh monday mornin you gave me no warnin of what was to be
Oh monday, monday, how could you leave and not take me
I sketched out this workflow late last week. I’ve since moved on to the grandson’s room (back bedroom). Structurally sound, just some clutter covering the top layer.
In other news, I see via Instapundit that the Brits are thinking about “banning the sale of all conventionally powered cars and trucks, including hybrids.” A DDG search informs me farming in Britain produces about 60% or so of the food Brits eat. In the year 2035 (which is the target date for this bold move) how many horses is it going to take to plow those acres that produce that food?
Monday monday. Carry on.