Gluttons.

Randy and I are sitting on the patio pretending it's not 55 degrees outside. He's reading the newspaper and I'm... well. Doing this. Five minutes ago I was watering the plants and the dog got all up in the hose as per usual before he realized I was actually shooting him in the face with liquid nitrogen. He immediately ran to the nearest pile of dirt to dry his face off. So now his face is both paralyzed with cold and mudcaked.

Randy just put the paper down and walked into the house.

"Where are you going?" Because if he's quitting, I'm quitting.

"To get a sweatshirt."

"Close the door, the heater's on." In hindsight I should have asked him to bring me some socks.

Although anyone who came outside barefoot in the first place doesn't really deserve socks.

The leaves are finally giving up on the mulberry trees. Every few minutes there's a loud rustling high in the branches that gets progressively lower until a giant yellow leaf plops out. Giant yellow leaf, giant yellow leaf, giant yellow leaf, giant spider, giant yellow leaf. It's only a matter of time.

Randy: "I was enjoying sitting out here when the sun was trying to come out."

"Yeah, it's pretty miserable now."

He opens the business section.