I stood outside the front door for a good half minute today, trying to figure out why the hell the door wasn’t locking, until I realized that I was using the little remote clicker on my car keys in an attempt to lock the house.

After returning home, I managed to deal myself a savage, eye-watering blow to the nose when, in a spectacular backwards fumble while seated on the toilet, I dropped the toilet paper, tried to catch it, and succeeded in spiking it volleyball-style directly into my face. A roll of extra-cushy triple-ply can still manage to pack quite a surprising wallop when delivered with great force to the cartilage. Who knew?

Some days I have this suspicion that I’m an artist because I’m basically unfit for the other, more essential professions. But I’m good with that.

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