With the bug now trapped in the travelbug prison known as Groundspeak Headquarters, my incentive to ride my motorcycle 2700 miles (one-way) to grab it subsequently ran and buried its head in a pile of sand.
Or rather, it probably had something to do with a rambling 3-minute phone message left on my voicemail.
I don't think that's it, either.
Instead, I'm just a little travel-weary, and the thought of heading up to rain-drenched Pacific coast, although makes for a good story, is not so romantic.
Bring the hair back to the south.
Jamie