It's a minor matter, but doesn't help my feeling that the universe is out to get me.

I had been going to write, "It could always be worse; you could be a drunken disembodied brain in a Gremlin." (Why, yes, yes, I am re-reading Narbonic . . .) But then I remembered that actually that would be sort of cool; so you may ignore me. I'm sorry about your jeans.