I am beginning to wonder if I would not benefit from taking an anti-depressant.
Today I found what I guessed to be a smeared booger on the wall in the living room. My immediate reaction was to fall to the ground, curl up in fetal position and sing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” in a falsetto voice. However, I discovered that it was completely unfulfilling to carry on in such a way with no audience present.
Instead, to numb the pain of the booger atrocity as quickly as possible, I went to the kitchen and used my hand to collect the chocolate chip cookies crumbs remaining under the cooling racks from the night before. I was exceedingly thankful that whoever had wiped off the countertop this morning was too lazy to move the empty rack in order to clean beneath it.
With utmost care, I dumped the crumbs onto my white plastic cutting board and chopped them into a fine powder with my sharpest Wolfgang Puck knife. I gathered the crumb powder into a line with the sharp blade, rolled up my electric bill and snorted a couple grams of cookie.
It was not my proudest moment.
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