In Memoriam

And so, the Grand Scottish Expedition suffers its first loss: my knife, Aggression.

I believe there are few reading this who don't understand how much my knife meant to me. I remember gramps and I going to Smoky Mountain Knife Works and buying it 11 years ago. Since then, I've had my knife by my side at almost all times, using it for everything from opening boxes to opening beer bottles to even fending off a small gang.

I'm almost certain it came out of my pocket yesterday, given that I walked at least 5 miles across Glasgow. The problem is where did it fall out? I didn't reach into my pocket much, so I've one suspicion where it possibly maybe fell out and where possibly maybe someone found it and turned it in; I'll certainly be dropping by there later today.

Otherwise, well. I suppose I should start looking for a new knife.

Weird; my knife's still in Tennessee. I completely hallucinated this whole bizarre incident.