No Touch-backs

I’ve been
tagged.
Here, then, are those five little-knowns:

  1. Sources of deep-seated anxiety: clipping Yoki’s toenails (how much can I
    take off?), mowing the lawn when there’s a possibility that small creatures
    are lurking in there, and maneuvering in spaces like unfinished attics or
    low-ceiling basements where the exposed ends of nails are just
    millimeters from my head.
  2. I subscribe to the RSS feeds of seven del.icio.us.ers.
  3. In elementary school, one year was especially loaded with U.S. geography.
    We could draw each of the fifty states for extra credit. I planned to do
    all fifty, of course. I took to my dad’s drafting table (the surveying
    business back then was stationed in two front rooms of the house). Alabama.
    But damn!, Alabama has some some crazy jags in the SW corner. I skipped
    to Colorado. Moved on to Utah and Wyoming, and, in a flurry of ambition,
    finished with Nevada. Call it my Euclidean stage. Extra credit: +5.
  4. Despite being elected in a landslide as senior class pres late last
    century (i.e., nobody else ran), I took no part in planning the most recent
    reunion (didn’t attend, either). Soon thereafter, I noticed the neighbors
    around here had "Impeach" signs stuck in their front lawns. How did they
    find out?
  5. Exam preparation has taught me finally how to read (by which I mean
    there’s most certainly been a phase transition in recent months). Regrettably
    this transformation has come at the expense of drinking beer.