I have not had an empty weekend in a couple months, which makes my level of personal cray-cray shoot through the roof. My ears get hot. I itch. My leg twitches.
Tomorrow is another busy Saturday: I am putting out to pasture my beloved car, Doctor David Fritz Shirley Baker. He’s served me well for eleven years (sort of; I was out of the country for a lot of his life). Lately, though, keeping him in tip-top shape is proving to be more costly than he’s worth (sorry, dear).
And so, tomorrow, Doctor David will be left alone and cold in the driveway as I head out to pick up my new car. This will be my fourth, and probably the least startling of the lot (does this mean I’m becoming an adult?). But he/she will need a name.
Any suggestions?
