Please Don’t Hit Me. Please Don’t Hit Me. Please Don’t Hit Me.

Drag. I just got the new shingles up this year – like 40 year shingles, you know. And now there’s space junk a fallin’. Space junk can look cool when it’s falling except when it’s falling on you.

I must have told you this but last summer, we were sitting out back in the early evening when someone said – what is that. Looking up there was this thing in the sky, a pivoting white cylinder falling and falling straight at us. I must have told you. Never? Well, there was nothing to give any perspective so we didn’t know if it was three feet long 300 feet up or 30 feet long half a mile up. It kept falling and we figured which wall were were about to hide up against when a cross current took it away off past the lake.

But a CIA spy satellite is not going to go that. It’s going to smash my new shingles. Please don’t hit the new shingles. Maybe ask the Chinese to help.

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