I went to...a place...

And I did...a thing. And that's more than you need to know.

In the place of this line there was once a long, amusing paragraph. You'd have loved it, but my lawyers insisted that it come down.

In light of the possibility that you might find yourself in reluctant possession of something you don't want near, it's always best to have a place for such things. A place that is...not here. Fortunately I live 'way out in the boondocks, and I know places where nobody else ever seems to go. Places where a little camo, or a little dirt-cover, will go the whole way. In fact, since I'm the sort of paranoid soul who sometimes lays awake worrying about what would happen "if," I have such places already established. I principally set them up for git-outa-Dodge caches because, again, I live 'way out in the boondocks and I'm a one-legged old coot and need all the help I can get. But they can serve double duty as "this stuff shouldn't be here" caches as well. It's great what you can do with a big artillery can, a shovel, and a little imagination, but choose your hidey places wisely. "Obscure" shouldn't ever mean "Obscure from me."

And that's all I'm going to say about that.