Swann's Solo

It's the freakin' weekend. . .

. . .and that's Marcel Proust playing air guitar on a tennis racket, c. 1892.

via

Whale

The cold weather is messing with my sensibilities.

I feel strangely insular and apt to lose track of time--and myself--in the minutiae of any given task.  Case in point: the above whale on which I spent far too much time, to memorialize a favorite line of "tv poetry," (which sure, isn't a thing, but whatever).

Also, as to my recent discovery of CVS brand peanut butter filled pretzel nuggets? -- Lord, Denise.