Shit, July’s gotta flee the ball, leaving behind one ratty water sandal that the prince isn’t even going to risk touching and instead simply put some ‘Biohazard’ tape around and go peruse Tinder instead. Yes indeedydo, it’s the end of the month, and what kind of abstract image did our evil stepphotographer prepare for us?
Why, it’s… that.
They don’t even do that anymore, do they? Actually, we have a grandfather clock out in the living room that runs the old-fashioned way, weights and pendulum and ticking and all that, and it remains pretty close to atomic time after I spent two weeks adjusting the length of the pendulum rod. Okay, that’s not hard, but it has to be done in small increments and then observed for