I woke up at 4:15 this morning. No, I don’t know why. I got up, made breakfast at 5:20, saw my husband off to work. I reclined on the couch in my fuzzy bathrobe, Queen of Sheba style, and expected to fall back to sleep. Instead, I noticed the garbage cans were knocked over and dragged halfway to the road by the screaming winds that were blowing all night. So I got dressed and picked them up. 
I will leave you to imagine the groaning and complaining that went along with this task. The garbage cans were empty, by the way. If they weren’t, they could have laid there until the crap blew all the way to Chicago for all I care. As I’m typing this, the wind just knocked them over again.
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All of this complaining is actually reminding me of the beginning of a book. Caney Paxton, lying in bed, drinking cold coffee and reading Louis L’Amour at three in the morning while raccoons get into the garbage behind his restaurant. Not that I’ve read that book 67 times and know the beginning (and middle and end) by heart or anything. 
If you haven’t read The Honk and Holler Opening Soon, you probably should, is what I’m saying. 
And while we’re on the subject of Louis L’Amour (we’re not on that subject, I know) you also should read Conagher. You really should, because it will hit you right in the feels, and you don’t expect that from a Louis L’Amour. That, and any book where the main male character is described as a ‘lean, dark-eyed drifter?’

Sign me up.
Ooh, Flint too. Flint is good. The description for that one includes the phrases ‘cold-eyed speculator’ and ‘notorious assassin,’ so how bad could it be, amiright? And yes, I will read books based on phrases like that. Once, I read a book review that complained about all the swearing, and do you know what I did?
I bought that book. 
See you later, after I sleep for 400 years.