There comes a point when you're so fed up and tired of being tired that you basically stop feeling. It makes the days pass easier, and, frankly, I'm actually happier. Or, I'm happier not thinking about the fact that I'm not happy. And what is "happy" and how do you make it and is it important? Let's not go there.
It's a time for spontaneous, unprovoked screaming. It's time for something drastic.
So I googled "drastic." I got a blog for some punk named Olly. This was atop the newest post:
(Sigh.)First thought: "This is where I want to die." But that was very morbid.
I'm sure it's in Yorkshire. And there's a lorry driving through the dales.
If I were a murderer, I would wear something drastically not-black. Maybe electric blue. I don't think white is the opposite of black. It might be electric blue. Or vivid tangerine. (Which are probably opposites of each other.)
Randomness of the day: A gentleman came into the office at 5 p.m. and nearly scared me to death. He was carrying a box. "These are from the Girl Scouts to thank you for all of your service to the community." The box said "Girl Scout Cookie Sampler" on the side. It was a medium sized box, probably breadbox-sized in the grand scheme of things. Maybe a bit smaller.
"Are you serious?" I said. He seemed puzzled. "Yes," he replied. And he walked out the door. And he wasn't lying. Inside were eight boxes of Girl Scout Cookies. (Which, coincidentally, are baked just up the road.)
1 comment:
well-said.
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