Sam does not kick the door down. Dean kicks the door down [link]. You have given up your rights to both brothers

His legs are longer and he's stronger. He could kick a door, and in fantasy, he does so. So save me (although I am fighting a monters and not shrieking like a delicate flower.) NYAH.

Although his dextrous...lock-picking fingers (yeah, THAT'S what they are) are also pleasing.

Dean can kick down my door any day, FWIW. I ain't picky.

Winchester!

Ah, I was thinking in the context of my apartment building and wondering what the last guy I dated had to do with anything. I might call him if I needed help setting up a blog or answers to photography questions, but not so much in a lockpicking situation.

I love that sequence for the "Dean! Why you gotta be so...DEAN?" that Sam is projecting. Along with the unspoken assumption that Sam is normal.

The show really needs more instances of them responding to basically normal surprise stimuli with martial reflexes, and then totally shining in non-supernatural but dire situations with all their mad John-taught and life-honed skillz.

There are some rather obtuse rules about condos and the amount of commercial space in a building, so I need to find out what percentage the two units on the first floor take up. This is all Fannie/Freddie stuff, so if this falls through, I can try a smaller bank where they are planning on keeping the mortgages in their portfolio rather than selling them. The trade off would be the rate would probably be higher.

I did find out I have a stellar credit rating, however. That was my biggest concern (I've never gotten around to checking it before now).

Best thoughts to your sister, Burrell.

And good news on the mortgage, Frank.

I haven't turned on the fans yet, it's still delicious outside. But it's heating up fast, so I should get the fans going while it's still cool: one in the back window to pull in air from the cool woods behind the house, one in the back hall to push it toward the front, another in the front hall to bank now-warmed air from the back and cooler air from the shaded porch into the lr, and one in the lr window to exhaust the warmed air into the sunny street. It works pretty well--only two days so far this summer when I'd have dealt with the devil for AC.

Both reality and fiction are choking me up today. And my cubemate seems to be fattening me up for some nefarious purposes. Fried pork crackling--low glycemic? Don't care. Tasty, but won't eat much.

Jamaica is getting its first pork store soon. My sister is beside herself (all the better to eat more pig).

Be well, Sister of Burrell.

Matilda had a successful ice skating playdate with her friend Norah yesterday and is safely tucked away at B&G Club for the day.

Shortly I'll be hauling Emmett back to his mom's but first we'll swing by Noe Valley Bakery and get a couple loaves of cherry chocolate bread.

eat a muffin.

Whitey.

Heh.