Love Has Limits

“Love has limits.”

This was the response I received from a fellow classmate as I attempted to explain why a friend of mine was getting married. So inspired was I by this notion of constrained love that I told her she should probably write a book with that title. Not to worry though, I promptly corrected her and informed her that it was, in fact, her face that had limits. Now that may not have necessarily been the best thing to say at that point, but what're you gonna do? It appears that words fail me at the times when it seems to be of particular importance that they don’t. Needless to say, that’s very... well, very much the way that it is.

It occurs to me that I don’t remember how to subnet. That’s gonna cost me in about four weeks.

Newcastle got dominated by Leicester a few days ago. Final count was 41-14, Leicester... Well, back to the old drawing board.

On my way back to the Shire last night, it was storming something fierce. The Mad Cav’s windshield wipers being what they are, coupled with the particularly brutish nature of the rain and hail, mostly resulted in me being unable to discern between the road and the not the road. The sky was impressive, I tell you what. When I turned onto Nursery, an imperious and well-timed thunderbolt reached down from the sky and seemed to split the road ahead of me in half. The sky all around was electrified and for that fraction of a second, everything was luminous and clear. It makes you think. I mean, it doesn’t make me think, but I assume that it would make someone with a greater threshold for abstract thought than me think. If you were able to successfully navigate your way out of your bed this morning, chances are you fall into that category. Take care, kids, and, if you think of it, pick me up some milk on your way home. I’m about out.

-Ryan