You'd think I'd be avoiding driving.

My quest to find the worst book I can successfully read through continues apace. This time I've picked up Weapons of Choice, a rather amusing first part to a trilogy whose other two parts are apparently not done yet. The premise is that a Badass Carrier Group, due to a problem with an experimental wormhole weapon system, is sent back to 1942, the majority of it landing in the Pacific just before Midway. Hilarity ensues. This one doesn't have any redeeming qualities that I can find, but it is a story, at least.

Brady's off and gone again. I called Jeremy, but he'd headed back to Springs; I failed to meet up with the one I was going to today, because her family had told her she had commitments. So. Tomorrow noonish I call the new number I have for the former, then probably head into town, north this time. I don't know why I'd thought CR had a Best Buy, so I need to go find one.

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