Or at least some new end tables or something: With Greta getting all kinds of cool antique furniture from Customs in Miller and Tara talking about all the horrors of house hunting, I'm getting this weird urge to own property. It's not going to happen for, like, EVER, and it's not that I really want to move from my present crib, because I like my present crib, and it's convenient for my travels. Perhaps I can talk the landlords into going condo, or at least letting me paint the place anything but freakin' white.

Meanwhile, I'm about to break a story tomorrow that's going to have a certain muni on its KNEES, and I. can't. WAIT. (Get ready, Ogger, because things may never be the same.) It's a lock, too; have the proof and everything, unlike the other story I was so jazzed about. That one hasn't panned out ... yet. But I of course will post this one once it's been published.