Actually, though, my companion, the lovely and incomparable Trisa, has, as I informed her, such a massive monilith of things-to-do, responsiblities, and otherwise vexxing STUFFS, that the thing actually protrudes out of her head casting a looming, imposing shadow that, to some extent, intimidates even I, the Great Trompé Setsuled. It makes me want to enfold her in big, comforting warm wings, much like the giant gargoyle in the animated Night on Bald Mountain at the end of Fantasia. Except I wouldn't make grimacing, gargoyley faces at her.
But she was probably the keenest component of my very keen day. What on earth did I do to deserve such a wonderfully sweet life? Honestly? Damn, I feel good . . .