Day 1 of my midlife crisis.
Today started out pretty much like any of the other previous 14,610 days. I don't feel any different. I don't feel any older. In corresponding with other people this morning, it appears that this is normal. So, I know I am not in denial.
No new guns have appeared on my doorstep yet looking for a good home. I must not be as well loved as I thought, or all my readers are just as broke as I am. If just 10 readers were to find it in their hearts to send me $40 each, I could get one off the list. Come on, that's dinner and a movie. A cheap date. If you can scrounge up more readers, that lowers the contribution level considerably. I'd even send you a copy of a target shot with the new weapon. I'll even do a Mel Gibson-esque smiley face if you want.
Oh well. There's still hope that someone will show up at the gun show on Sunday, hand me one of the guns on my list and say: "It's all yours. Go forth and have fun slaying paper, varmints, zombies and liberals (which really are the same thing when you think about it)."