I'm not ready to give up on this place.
The ol' place will make just as good a summer resort as it did a winter resort.
So with the spectacular failure of the spring resort attempts, I'm coming back to the only place that ever felt like a home away from home. Sure, the snow-melt flooding washed away the outhouse, and the mosquitos are breaking out the good silver, and we still have to clean up the crusted remains of the New Year's party, and we have a collective rash on our collective asses so bad we can't even siddown, but hey - you know me. I can't complain.
If anyone needs me, I'll be out back getting a suntan. Or probably a sunburn.
Strange things are afoot at the Circle K.