Grout

Rian nearly ran over Jerry this morning.

He sprinted across Lincoln Street as Rian barrelled to the dentist. Despite tanned Postal Legs, he did not move quickly enough. Or perhaps Rian moved too quickly.

Either way, I slammed on the brakes California Style, propped elbows on steering wheel, and quietly watched him cross. He looked tired. One supposes being a Post Man may be much like being a Monk. Little contact with outside world.

Although. Rian has twice seen Jerry chased by rabid women. So perhaps he is a special case.

Grouting was easy, although time consuming. Rian is not a happy floor scrubber. But the black and white tiles are nearly gleaming.

There was a skeletal mouse by the hose. Has the Bird Curse has jumped species?