This morning I plummeted from seventeenth to main. Woken up early to a not so familiar alarm. Not the alarm where one can reach over and poke the snooze, instead the alarm that causes mass panic and in some cases causes the sleeper to hurl themselves out the window. Thankfully in this scenario, we decided to take the stairs. The time, 7:51, a tip from my radioactive pal, the microwave, led me to this eventual hypothesis. Matt and I took flight down the fire escape, leaving 2/3 of the stairs untouched (I counted), only to find four of our haggard looking neighbours in the lobby dozing off, but still standing; a scene that must have looked like the early stages of an outbreak of the utterly fatigued undead. The firefighters meandered in late, but I’m sure if we had told them there was a cat in the tree they would have moved the slightest bit faster. I went back to bed.
Two hours went by where I had gathered me some shut eye, and this time I was woken by a sound a little more familiar. Matt is good at simulating my alarm with his guitar. A quick shower that had me missing my soap on a rope, some coffee, some toast, a little peanut butter, and jam and I had joined the breakfast club.
Todays Outlandish Spectacles
Exhibit A: Larger than life Elf
Exhibit B: Clown from the 60's
Exhibit C: Chestnuts that are the Spitting Images of Matt and I
