I’m on my third box of Kleenex and at the end of my rope. I think I have nerve damage in my leg, and I’ve finalized my decision to make a list of instructions for being polite during Halloween next year and taping it to my door. Any deviation from the instructions will result in pencils and toothbrushes.

Here’s how I spent my day:

ME: Rambling around the house aimlessly and dazed. “Winstud! Winstud! Where are you, Winstud! Winstud, I’ve decided you’re a didosaur. But a didosaur that can becub idvisible. But whed you’re dot idvisible, you’re all scaly and bead. Like a didosaur. Winstud! I want to ped and hold and love you! Winstud! Cub here, please! I’ll give you chickeds …”

Winston’s collar: In the distance. “Jangle, jangle.”

ME: “Winstud! Stob leading be od!”

Sometimes I fear I waste all of my witticisms on that cat.

Oh, but I forgot my initial purpose for this blog. Here are the terrible things that happened today:

  1. I got a crack in my previously immaculate windshield, and it happened so fast! I was hit by a rock on my way to school, and planned to get the chip filled on my way home. But miraculously while I was learning about the power of A or whatever it was, the chip became a hideous curved crack.
  2. I was going to check out the state of the apartment that was recently vacated that I am supposed to be managing while dad is in Arizona, and it was locked. So now I have to go all the way to Lindon to get the keys, and I hate driving to Lindon. And they left a big ugly television, so I have to somehow find a way to carry that to my car. Maybe I’ll bribe Davey. Or some big strong man from campus. “Hey you! You have muscles, move a television for me and I’ll let you have a conversation with me and buy me dinner.” It will work.
  3. To cheer myself up, I visited Art City Trolley, a great local restaurant that I’ve never actually visited, and ordered food that is pretty hard to mess up. But it was not good at all. I mean, I did get there twenty minutes before they closed early for Halloween, but that doesn’t mean my French fries deserved to be undercooked severely undercooked and my cake cold as ice.
  4. I’m still sick.
  5. Trick-or-Treaters have bad manners.

You all know that when I post without pictures, I feel like I’m betraying you. (I don’t know who this “you” I’m referring to is, because this blog has had a whopping total of zero hits thus far.) So, here is a little present:

There are no words.


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Filed under Arbitrary tidbits, Winston

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