As a curmudgeon, being "bad" is pretty much the normal course of affairs. My Sainted wife is out on one of her many endless shopping trips and I am doing what comes naturally to repressed husbands everywhere: popping plates off walls all through the house (see the 8/27 and 1/28 Repors) by playing Michael Jackson's "I'm Bad" at the volumes I presume he intended. (Very decent bass line, BTW).
Today, I'm thinking I will blame it on Tiger, the Wonder cat, rather than the Who (my usual scapegoats). Tiger gets away with anything because when you go to reprimand him, he turns upside down and purrs. In 9 years, neither of us have had the fortitude to follow through and reprimand him, so he's an easy scapegoat.
Anyway, this is all in lieu of doing the various little fix-it projects I had promised to tackle. Funny how loud music really doesn't permit concentrating on anything else. No doubt why I like it so much. I'm bad.
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