The crippling pressure of having to bake perfect and edible cookies, as a prerequisite to visiting new neighbors (to welcome them to the neighborhood) is why I’ve never met any of my new neighbors.
While napping inside a sunbeam, in the middle of any day, the meaning of life is crystal clear for one brief moment, just before you open your eyes. Cats understand this, which is why they are so smug.
Writing notes on either stunning stationery or random bits of junk mail both thrills me, and leaves me with a sense of accomplishment; so much so that I rarely, if ever, consult those snippets ever again. After I’ve put pen to paper, ideally my work here is done. Sometimes, though, if I do happen to jigsaw these scraps onto paper, this is what I get.
Do you think it could get me out of jury duty?