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Sometimes, With Extra Hash Browns


Sometimes I get really concerned when I notice the dog's not on the bed with me any more. I jump up to look for him, even though there's nowhere for him to go. Unless he learned how to vaporize through walls, he's just sprawled out on the other bed. Yup, there he is. Sometimes I think everybody hates me. I'm fairly certain this isn't true, but in darker moments, it becomes the answer to a lot of questions.

Sometimes I eat a week's worth of groceries in three days. I'm not sure how this happens, but it must be some biological instinct left over from the days when a slight chill in temperature meant an ice age was nigh so better eat all those hash browns now.

Sometimes you just have to be a fucking adult and feel your fucking feelings. For the record, I don't like to do this. I prefer to send melodramatic emails.

Sometimes I would give just about anything to have someone crack my back. Anyone? "Just about anything" includes 12 dollars in cash, the two hash browns I have left, and/or a cute but needy German Pointer.

Sometimes the smallest things can make my day, like drinking hot apple cider while wearing a turquoise fleece jacket and listening to the rain on the window.