Val's internet is slow tonight, my friends. Slow. Like a line inching its way forward in a bakery to buy the last chocolate babka. Slow. Like an old lady tottering along, fiercely defending her marble rye from a scofflaw on the streets of New York.
Not slow in a good way. Like rocking on your front porch reading the home-town paper while waiting for the fireworks display to start.
SLOW! Like the old man in the car in front of you on two-lane winding blacktop, when you really wish you had stopped by the bathroom before leaving work. Like an eight-year-old telling you the plot of a Disney sitcom word-for-word while you are fourth in line at the DMV.
Not slow in a relaxing way. Like drifting down a clear, two-foot-deep creek on a lazy July afternoon, resting on a three-dollar yellow air mattress from the Dollar Store.
SLOW!!! Like a recalcitrant child dawdling over his lone household chore of taking out the trash and putting in a tall kitchen trash bag.
I just don't have the patience for this tonight.