I did a bad thing to myself. I got the country song "Elvira" in my head this morning, and I can't get it out. And now it's in your head. Sorry! Help me before I kill again! Remember that infernal doo wop, da doo wop, da mau mau part? Someone should call the intelligence interviewers at Guantanamo about this.
Oh, yeah. We're not allowed to use torture.
I've getting more than the usual number of bizarre random thoughts. Maybe it's part of the grieving process to allow one's black humor to seep back in.
I sure miss Naomi.