Spring: what’s with it

Give me 2 days of sunlight here in typically crappy New England, and I feel like I am on a meth bender. I am the greatest! Look at me run up and down the stairs! Sex sex sex! Oh wait, no, birds, pie! I bought an Umbrellas of Cherbourg-style trenchcoat and a chrome multi-drawer under-sink organizer! Look at that dog; see that dog?

About that dog. I saw some dogs! My favorite had to be the celebrity terrier. People on the street holler “Is that Goblin? Hi, hi, Goblin!” Goblin does not say hi. She lets her entourage handle the little people.

Many thanks to David and Rob for allowing me to stay at their lovely home. A pile of straw in the yard would have sufficed since I am barnfolk, but no, I was allowed in. Safe from Balto-zombie attacks and the chilling laughter of children. Don’t worry, I also give thanks via letterpressed notes. It’s what God and Miss Manners want.

Southwest Airlines: I did not know they were a “funny” airline before I flew. Cripes. By the time the air hostesses started singing, I was contemplating throwing myself out window. Also, they have no assigned seating. Passengers are divided into groups A, B, and C, and the A group is allowed to storm the seats first and hog the overhead bins. I was an Alpha both times by virtue of genetic superiority and a fabulous new hair cut, so I was able to pick the most avoidant seat (exit row). The Betas shuffled and muttered “I’m glad I’m not an Alpha, so much pressure.” The air hostess made a packet of peanuts race a packet of pretzels down the aisle during takeoff, and the Epsilons were truly concerned with the outcome of this contest. Pretzels won. Don’t lie, you were emotionally invested just reading this.

To celebrate my return home, we were supposed to watch a bunch of Japanese zombie movies, but Heather and I crossed our wires. So Mr. H and I went to the packy*, because we are in love, and that’s what people in love do. It was 10:45 at night, and the nearest packy closed early! So we went across the street to the next nearest packy. Also closed! So we went down a whole block to the next one, and encountered a loud woman with mall bangs slurring “Didja ever try this beef jerky? I swear, it’s the answer to yah prayahs!” She fell into a display of Tooters test tube shots on her way out. God wanted this.

*When I first moved to Boston, I thought that was a reference to a Pakistani person. It means liquor store. Who knew?

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