The king of shaky ladders.

I like looking at dating web sites especially when they’ve used their broken criteria to match me with people that would never want to date me. ARE YOU SIX FEET OR TALLER? (No, and I believe I’m shrinking according to my doctor’s office.) ARE YOU A LESBIAN? (While my sister insists I’m gay, nobody’s ever mistaken me for a lesbian.) ARE YOU 25? (I was at some point, but that was back when Ronald Reagan was president.) I AM A VEGAN. (And I’m a lacto-ovo-pesco-carnivo-vegetarian. In fact, I probably don’t always eat vegetables if there’s a nice slice of bacon to be had.) Nice to know I’m not wanted.

I did have a good time on the gym’s borrowed ladder. It wasn’t exactly straight and it was a rattly aluminum ladder like I prefer, covered in rotten leaves but still it was a ladder. I do have some fear of heights that I can usually suppress, but I noticed I was sweating quite a bit and I wasn’t dangling off the thing like my dad used to be able to do. Ah well.

Time for Mr. Excitement to update the credit card info on all his bills.