All that junk that's in yo trunk

I spent the morning counting grass and forb species in the field margins of Bryan Farms in West Point. I found at least a dozen ticks on me before eleven o'clock. But I am not complaining. The field I was in today hosts primarily native grasses, mostly Indian grass, a few big bluestems, some little bluestems, some broomsedge and one or two panicums, and just a few forbs, mostly goldenrod and boneset, and no signs of wildlife (save one birdsnest and some coyote tracks in the adjacent soybean field). The best thing you could say about this habitat is that the survey was quick and easy. Back into town for some asbestoes floor tile chippin'. That went slowly. Trying to chew through a thin layer of tile and glue and not gouge the wood underneath too severely. I rented a machine that is supposed to do the job, but I curse this machine and grab a big steel shovel/hoe-like scraping implement. Twenty minutes later I throw this tool aside and throw the switch once again on the machine. And so it goes. At five I discover that the real problem is a lack of gin. Back at my desk, where I make the magic happen, I revamp my blogspot profile. Check it out and you will notice an improvement. My new resolution: to get through July without mentioning the eighties.