51 2:32 AM Friday, Pyrrhic victory, see below.
50 10:29 PM, On Marcus’ head.
49 4:37 PM, Artifacts commons and uncommons box.
48 4:19 PM, Blue commons and uncommons box, at least he was next to the Counterspells.
47 4:01 PM, White commons and uncommons box, missed him.
46 3:42 PM, Green commons and uncommons box.
45 3:33 PM, White commons and uncommons box.
Today’s Highlight: I had been sorting cards for about two hours as I recently purchased someone’s collection.  Then…. #51 lands on a pile of white rares that aren’t in standard and he sit there, staring at me.  I walk away slowly, knowing he’s not in a crevasse, I’ll need to use the vacuum rather than the tweezers.  The plastic sheath of the drapes attachment slides back revealing the instrument of death.  Power is on and the winds of death begin to whirl through the cyclone honeycomb of the Dyson 350.  I approach the stinkbug, make eye contact thinking he’ll bravely face his fate when he flips me the bird, flies backwards and away.  I lunge wildly heaving my weight across the table and destroying hours of sorting.  I roll across the side and grasping the telescoping handle like a harpoon fire the suction tube at my whiteboard where the stinkbug chose to make his last stand.  I can see the terror in his many eyes as the plastic tube surrounds him and a momentary hiccup is heard as a the last echo of his carcass is heard.  The air is filled with the normal cyanides released at stinkbug death but this time it smelled bitter sweet.  I surveyed the damage, and sat with grim determination to resort the cards I had just upturned.  War is hell.