Bigger on the Inside than on the Outside

Working in a small, confined area with many other people leads to a certain, well-known hazard, though we won't discuss it here. It's certainly no worse than working a few feet away from a cat's litter box.

It's Saturday morning. Time is running out for the human race; scientists tell us we only have 4.5 billion years or so before the sun dies and we're all vaporized in a final conflagration. So much to do, so little time!

Long before then, of course, we'll have run out of chocolate, and probably we'll be short of other, less important food items, such as vegetables and tuna. We can always replace those by wishful thinking, which is what ghosts and spectres are good at.

I've been rereading Rosemary's Baby, a spooky and very classy thriller by a fine writer. No spectacular special effects, no people running around in muscle shirts in dark sewers, brandishing enormous weapons and grimacing and shouting at each other--just ordinary people caught up in mysterious and sinister events.

I like the look of this chocolate waffle, which comes to you courtesy of the eightsandyfeet.blogspot.com site. Here's a vegetable or two to go with it, from the Michigan Farmers Market.

And here's part of the Kensington Market in Toronto, which is a very popular site with locals and tourists alike. You can read about it here.

And now I must go on a quest for breakfast.

Elvis says 'Hi' again.