In Which Your Humble Blogger tries to imagine how nothing at all could be so exciting, could be this much fun.
In Which Your Humble Blogger leaves off the verses about the bridegroom’s right to be the first to get past the vestibule, and the other verses about blood in the vestibule versus blood in the chamber, and the rest of the verses as well, because Gentle Readers will have gotten the picture.
In Which Your Humble Blogger would rather be a street than a forest, but, you know, different people like different things.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has gotten the numbers of the verses wrong, somehow, which is easy enough, what with some of my sources calling this verse 19, and some just the first half of verse 15.
In Which Your Humble Blogger could probably have found a way to slip in the Cromwell quote. Ah, well.
In Which Your Humble Blogger tries to do a Scripture post from the road, on the fly, without a net.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has probably made several typos, which is not in strict accordance with the Lex Hartmania, but in keeping with the spirit of it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger winds up writing about Alex, actually, although he is not mentioned by name.
In Which Your Humble Blogger digs in to futility for the hopefulness therein.
In Which Your Humble Blogger goes on with a sermon, instead of buckling down to the derivation of p’rak’lit and cotaygore.