Today I'm the grand age of 33, which means that I only have a few more years before I overtake Mozart's time on this planet. Of course, that's likely to be the only conceivable area in which I could ever best poor Wolfgang, but there it is.
There probably won't be much posting today, since we plan to be out and about for much of the time. Part of my time today has been spent dipping into this book, which was bequeathed upon my person by my parents at dinner last night. I'm almost certain to love a book that carries an endorsement on the back cover by Ayn Rand: "This is similar to my works in that anyone who reads it is sure to be an asshole for at least a month afterward". Of course, I managed to read Rand with no ill effects (probably something to do with the string of garlic I wore around my neck whilst reading her), so I'm sure I'll be able to read this one with similar lack of injury.
The Wife, of course, correctly interpreted all of my incredibly subtle hints (along the lines of "Buy this! Buy this! Please please please!") and provided me with this. And thus was all made right in the world. Or at least the Buffalo Niagara region.