Thanks for all the e-mails (mostly inquiries as to when I expected to regain my sanity and take up housekeeping *inside* a bunker) and comments expressing concern for my post-bottle rocket wellbeing, but geez, it's not like I'm doing rilly *dangerous* stuff anymore [note to Twin: Try a spoonful of Pepto before bedtime].
Besides, the dirtbags don't know me from any other grey-haired, mustachioed, devilishly handsome, shades-'n'-Paki-bush-hat-wearin' contractor over here -- it's not like it's personal or nuthin' this time around.
On *their* part, anyway.
Heh. More later...
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