I keep typing after midnight ...

So the fair is over, which means that it's now time to print the fair results. But the lady who compiles and sends them .... well, I want to feel like a nice person today.

Let's just say that we're having to re-type all the results. Every ... last ... result.

Imagine everything -- every little thing -- that happens at fair. Every pie. Every quilt. Every cow. Every bunny. Every shot of a gun (air rifle, .22 and shotgun). Every photograph. Every potted plant.

We get to (re)type it all.

Some of the names appear at least a couple hundred times (can you say "overachiever?").

And some names aren't easy to type at any speed when said typist is wide awake and not a bit punch-drunk at the end of her shift.

Names like "Schilt" and "Pope."

I'll leave it to your imagaination what happens to those names in the tenth or eleventh hour of a shift ... let's just say that there was a lot of giggling and not a little bit of swearing between Deb and myself in the wee hours of this morning.