I woke up in a good mood this morning, and tried like hell to get back into my funk, because I promised you some deep blue funkiness, and dammit, I like to deliver. Unfortunately, it was sunny outside, and the air smelled really clean and wonderful, and I was feeling better. Plus, I realized that although I've been stuck in my house for four days, I can have the nice man at the laundry bring me clean clothes. And so I did.
As soon as he got here, however, I realized that I was wearing pajama pants with pink kittens all over them and that my hair looked like a fright wig. Also, I'm pretty sure that I'm starting to get a crazed gleam in my eye from being isolated for so long.
"I swear I'm not a shut-in," I said, as he handed me the bag. "I've had the flu all week, is the thing. I'm totally employed and stuff. I have a job."
He nodded, like, surrre, you do, and took my money.
It's a good thing I'm going to work tomorrow. The next step is either to start writing unfortunate letters to my congressmen or the adoption of a nerdy new hobby. Building ships in bottles, say, or else collecting stamps.
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