Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Rest in peace, mothman

He is gone. I examined the body closely, but still am unsure of his true sex. There are no owl eyes on his wings. Nothing is as others say it will be.

Now I have no friends here. I am forced to sweep up someone else's dried spaghetti. My air mattress has done something unexpected twice so far tonight. I ate a child's snack for dinner. I am going to run around the park median.

I have to read The Princess Bride tonight. It is work-related.

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