Soooo... things not going well?

So-so. I'm a week into my third bout of bronchitis this year, and am missing out on some fun.

Me: Drum's not dead, but your dog is.

You: What?

Me: Well, not yet at least.

You: You sonaofa-

Me: Come now, what did you possibly expect?

You: If I wasn't in...

Me: Bulgaria? (laughing) Then what would you do? Think of it this way: if you truly believe that nature doesn't just exist, but transforms, then you have nothing to worry about. Your furry little friend (who technically wasn't yours anymore anyway, but...) will continue to be even after he's left the confines of current (or former) home. Who knows? Maybe some day, suckling at the breast of some gorgeous graduate student twenty years your junior you'll have the distinct feeling that you've put your hands here before. Maybe it won't register for days or even weeks, but when it does, well, I'll leave that up to you.

You: I'll kill you.

Me: Please, no more empty threats. Besides, I've got some very important drinking to attend to.

Ta ta.