The b.h.'s family seems adamantly opposed to fresh air, for some reason. His sister's place is in a hilariously cookie-cutter little suburb of our nation's capitol, about as safe a spot as you're likely to find in this part of the world. And yet, all doors, windows, and even window shades remain shut- all day. And so I find myself, alone, at sunset, with a Bell's Two-Hearted Ale and a lurvely sunset. It seems that I have worked out how to blog from my phone after all, and so I have all of you for company. Cheers, my friends.