Yesterday, I received a letter from George Mason University in Washington D.C. According to the student volunteer who purportedly wrote the form letter, the dean thinks I’m very qualified. Apparently, I’d make a great student. The problem is, I’m not the junior in high school they think I am.

They gave me a top ten list of why I should visit the university. Number three was “parties.” Number eight was that I might meet a special someone and get a date. Perhaps I should send them a top ten list of why I shouldn't do my undergraduate work at George Mason. Number one would probably be the fact that I’ve already done my undergraduate work. Number six would probably be the fact that I don’t go to places that think I’m still a minor who might like Disney on Ice (number nine).

Sarah has been working hard at school; I have been at home. Does this sound repetitive to anyone? I did go outside to play basketball, and I couldn’t help but think: this is quite a life I lead: I don’t have to work, the weather’s great, and I’m in good health. I really need to savor this a bit more…

Oddly, I managed to get up early today: you know, as might a normal person. I’m not really sure how it happened; I only slept for 5 hours, and I woke up before 6 AM feeling ready to go. Of course, I didn’t get out of bed for another hour, and, when I finally did, I didn’t really do anything for several hours (and by several, I mean all day). Astronauts are busy as beavers all day, aren’t they? Always fixing things, floating around, doing calculus and other such nonsense, and eating food from toothpaste tubes. Compared to them, I was a bum today: I probably only floated for about 10 minutes (it takes a lot more effort than you’d think, and I just didn’t have it in me), and I didn’t eat anything from a tube (unless you count the giant glob of toothpaste I accidentally swallowed…).

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah…

Well, I've been forced to post... partly because of certain family members pressuring me (ahem...), and partly because of the quote below saying that I endorse whatever Max says about me as 100% accurate. This is simply not true. In response to his query about why I don't post very often, my exact words to him were: "You just sum it up so well". And you all know that I tend to ramble instead of paraphrase. But you asked for it, so here goes:
For the past few weeks, I've been working my tail off to stay two days ahead of the game at work. Despite my efforts, I always seem to be two days behind. This is partly due to the fact that I have a self/Max-imposed curfew of 5:15 pm, and also because pesky things like paperwork, irate parents and administrators take up my time and get me off track! Although I've been busy, I've been enjoying myself in the GrownUp World of Teaching. In fact, I've been looking forward to Friday when I'll get my first paycheck. I've also been getting to know my students better. I was so proud of them today when they all sat quietly in what I will call "The Most Boring Assembly Ever". Most of the other teachers in the room had to admonish and threaten their students for them to behave--but not me!
Well, I've probably rambled on long enough... See you in another few weeks!

~Sarah not Max

Was I hiding in the bushes? Apparently. At what was I looking? Astronauts? A mountain? A bug? It was probably a bug. But you never know where or when an astronaut will make an appearance...

I suppose that this is more like, "seeing pink", but there really wasn't any available orange. This is the view that Sarah and I see on our nightly walk: you're looking onto the "back bay", which opens into the Pacific; the mountain in the distance isn't always so visible: haze normally hides it a bit (sometimes it's even invisible, or on vacation, I'm not sure which).

In other news, Sarah is working hard with paperwork this week and next. I am still looking/waiting for things to do...

If a picture says a thousand words, you must be tired of reading, so, in light of your condition, I won’t write anymore right now.

We didn’t have any barbiturates, so those were out of the question, and Sarah had a few qualms about bonking me with the hammer; thus, it appears I’m staying up all night, yet again. Yesterday, I attempted the “set an alarm and get up theory.” The problem I found with that was that I could just turn off my alarm. Once that happened, I naturally went back to sleep and didn’t get up until around 4:15 PM (and only then because Sarah was home from work and I was supposed to make dinner, which I did). The ensuing problem, of course, was that I’d slept for 13 hours and there was little chance I’d go back to sleep for at least16 hours, which, as any mathematician or 8 year-old could tell you, would be at 8 AM. It’s now 3:20, and I have a problem.

Sarah is sleeping fine (though probably not enough), and has lots to say to me about how things are going with her. On the other hand, dear family members, friends, and people I don't know, she refuses to talk directly to you. She did tell me to tell you, "whatever Max says is an absolutely, 100% accurate portrayal of reality."

Slight error on that last post: the large mammal was not actually a monkey.

This is a picture of a monkey I saw today.

Today, I played a game called “Go to bed at a normal time and then be awoken at 3 AM by a blood-curdling scream emitted by a gleeful yet suddenly upset drunken woman outside your bedroom window.” It was originally manufactured by Parker Brothers but the Department of Defense bought them out in order to modify the game for use with inmates at Guantanamo. It’s quite exhilarating: so much so, in fact, that I finally got back to sleep around 7AM, only to be awoken by a similar game called “My wife keeps pestering me and won’t go away until I get up and go to church with her, but I’m so tired.” This game was originally manufactured by my wife. It too is now used at Guantanamo.

I had an interesting picture to post, but there's a glitch in the system, and I can't. It would have changed your life. Oh well. No, I can't just do it tomorrow.

Sarah and I tried a new church today but didn't really like it. There's always next week. I’m still trying to find some semblance of a sleep schedule (with little success). I’ve tried going to bed only when I’m tired (doesn’t work). I’ve tried going to bed only when I’m not tired (doesn’t work). I've tried going to bed sometimes when I'm tired and sometimes when I'm not (doesn't work).

Perhaps I’ve been going about it the wrong way: maybe I need to do an about-face and try getting up at the same time every day. Maybe then I would naturally get tired at the same time each evening. Maybe I need Sarah to bonk me in the head with a hammer every night at 9:30 and stuff my mouth full of barbiturates.

Any guesses what I saw today? No guesses? Okay, I’ll give you some choices. Today I saw a) duck, b) moose, c) monkey, d) elephant. If you guessed a, b, c, or d, you were incorrect. If you guessed anything other than what I saw, you were also incorrect. For a complete answer key, please send me self-addressed, stamped envelope taped to the back of a Canon 20 D digital SLR.

Sarah worked for about 6 hours in her classroom today: I’m quite sure she forgot it was Saturday. I slept all day and managed to play a little basketball. After our walk, we stopped at a pizza place near the house. The food was a lot better than I expected, and the slices were huge. So huge, in fact, I had trouble discerning which was bigger, the slice I ordered, or Sarah’s gigantic head (she’s been getting a lot of compliments at work). Kidding, of course.

Today, Sarah discovered the wonderland that is office politics. I rediscovered the wonderland of being awake all night and sleeping all day. I've decided to be a sloth when I grow up. Or maybe a racoon: yes, something nocturnal might be most appropriate. I'd also like to have sharp teeth. I'm not sure how I feel about the tail though; people would always be pulling it.

Does anyone else smell that?

Arrgghh!!!!

It's really starting to tick me off.

In the middle of staying up all night,
I got the urge to up and write.
But did I?
No.

Literally seeing orange. Sunset at Balboa Pier.

I sat and stared at the blank page for at least five minutes before I realized that I truly didn’t have anything to write. My first thought was that there is an inherent lack of creativity creeping in on my part. My second thought was about a cheeseburger, and my third thought confirmed the first: I’m sure there are plenty of limericks I could disgorge, and, of course, I could espouse the horror of astronaut-as-career. But, quite frankly, I don’t want to do that today. Or yesterday. Instead, I’d rather write something with meaning, a greater significance, if you will. Maybe I’ll do that tomorrow; I’ve already written a paragraph, after all.

Okay, I haven’t posted in a few days. Here’s the thing: once I tried and blogger didn’t let me (something about problems with the server). The other time (or was it times, I don’t really remember) I just didn’t. So there.

Sarah’s been busy with school: she’s had her first round of after-school meetings, etc. She just loves them. I’ve been busy with not being busy. I cleaned the house yesterday, and it was dirty again almost immediately afterward. This wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Unless you count Sarah, and then it was her fault. Kidding. Actually, we got a new couch. Very nice. Very expensive looking. Very free.

I went the staying up all night route. Needless to say, I’m very tired now and hope to be able to 1) sleep through the night without circadian rhythm thinking I’m taking a nap, 2) go to bed at a normal time tonight, 3) get up at a normal time tomorrow, 4) get onto a normal schedule, 5) stop making lists.

The rain just won’t go away: there were probably 7 drops of it today; it was all over the news.

Sarah went to a meeting today about our health insurance; our good coverage will begin in 10 days. It will be nice to be able to have the option for someone else to perform minor surgeries for a change.

There is some sort of incessant beeping outside our apartment. It’s high-pitched and variably intermittent. If I go insane, you’ll know why.

So, I’m struggling with a decision. Last night, I couldn’t sleep and didn’t end up dozing off until about 5 AM. Naturally, I didn’t wake up this morning until 2:30 PM. This is starting to sound like an 8th grade math story problem. It’s not. In any case, it’s now almost 4AM, and I can’t figure out whether I should go to bed (only to find myself not waking up tomorrow until 4PM and engaging in a never-ending, vicious cycle) or stay up all night, yet again. I will probably go with the sleep all day route, but that makes it difficult to do all the things I had planned: things such as sleeping in, eating, walking around the house in my underwear, eating, checking the mail, eating, and checking the mail again. I will never be an astronaut.

Today, I learned something about life in southern California: rain is a life-altering event. Let me begin by saying that Sarah and I were on our walk when the unexpected happened; it started with a far-off lightening strike and a distant rainbow and ended with a few, remote peals of thunder and a second rainbow. In between there were a sprinkle of rain (1/8th of an inch) and a bunch of locals pointing at the sky. The top story of the 11 o’clock news (Fox) was, I kid you not, “Wacky Weather!” Apparently, the drizzle was accompanied by brief periods of wind (not high winds, mind you) that stopped flights at LAX and John Wayne airports. Those in charge thought the planes might “get struck by lightening and explode.” That was not a joke. The locals who were interviewed seemed flabbergasted that such an event (as in rain) could happen here. The news crews did their best to film the devastation by pointing their cameras at the sky. I’m quite sure that Californians would die if forced to live elsewhere; they just can’t fend for themselves. No offense, of course.

I just ate a bitter pecan, and it’s really all that I can think about. Like bitter-pecan flavored coffee, the taste of that stupid nut filled my entire mouth and waylaid four of my six senses. I ate it anyway.

In other news, there’s no news today. If you would like some news, please turn on your TV. Other sources of news include the newspaper, the radio, the internet, your neighbors, the newspaper, and the stalls of public restrooms.

Quite frankly, nobody is watching anybody: it’s 2 AM, and everyone but me is asleep. As I type, I’ve been quite distracted by the giant container of “extra fancy, mixed nuts” that sits in front of me. I actually just found myself wondering how many cashews I can fit in my mouth at once. I figure around 50: 20 in each cheek and then ten in my actual mouth.

As it turns out, 46 will fit.

Sarah worked on her lessons. I ran some errands. We went to the beach and got in a traffic jam. What a Saturday.

You're being watched.

I’m being watched.

Sarah is watching me type this. She just said something that I’m not allowed to write because, “My parents read this.” Then she said, “No, don’t say that, they’re going to think it’s sexual.” It wasn’t. She’s just rude.

I don't think it counts that I slept from 9:45 PM until 10:15 PM, so I seem to have stayed up all night again. I'm quite sure that I have some sort of sleep disorder.

Sarah rekindled her love for bureaucracy today. Now that I think about it “rekindled” doesn’t have quite the necessary force: at one point, I actually caught her attempting to set fire to some paperwork. Maybe just kindled would have been more appropriate.

I went to the library. Whew! What a day.

Life is strange when you spend most of your waking hours asleep (I recognize the absurdity of that comment is worthy of Berra-esk immortalization, but I stick to my guns: that’s what I meant). Today, for instance, having slept for the 12 previous hours, I woke at 1:30 PM, only because there were people yelling outside my bedroom window. After making the bed and pretending to clean the house, it was practically time to cook dinner. And so it comes to this: I’ve decided that the real world is like France: I’ve been there and will probably be back, but it’s really far away. Oh, and the people speak with accents.

I think I have a problem: I slept for another 14 hours last night. If I didn’t know me better, I’d think I was suffering from clinical depression. I’m not. I might be involved in some sort of dissociative fugue state, but I’m not depressed. Who could be, getting to sleep the majority of life?

For the record, those comments were sardonic, not overtly negative. There’s a subtle distinction there somewhere. In any case, Sarah is ready for Friday, and I could very well come to believe it’s Friday (or Saturday, or Tuesday). It’s not, so says the calendar.

I slept for 14.5 hours two nights ago and 9.5 last night. For those of you keeping score, that's 24 hours in a 48 hour period. I do the best I can, why fault me for it?

Sarah’s bureaucratic problems were resolved, and I learned how to sound out the word bureaucratic before spelling it. Yesterday, I guessed and was mystified when I actually spelled it correctly; today, I mangled it so horribly that Word had no idea what I was trying to say and didn’t offer any suggestions (hence the ‘sounding out’ part).

In other news, I took a practice LSAT (law school admissions test) and scored in the 99th percentile. For those of you keeping track at home, that is very good, especially considering the fact that I hadn’t previously studied or attempted the test in any capacity. If I work hard, I might be able to score in the 98th percentile if I actually take it.

It’s strange how I’ll do almost anything to avoid going to bed. There’s just something I hate about giving up my wake time. I think it has something to do with the fact that, before bed, I’m always doing whatever I want. Maybe if I was given the choice between going to bed and cleaning the house, I would choose bed. But right now, the choice is between watching TV, playing the guitar, surfing the internet (those three are done collectively, mind you) and going to bed. Yeah, that’s going to happen.

Today Sarah played a game that I like to call “Fun with Bureaucracy”. Ironically, she didn’t really have all that much fun. I played a game that I like to call “Walking to the Bookstore”. Ironically, I walked to the bookstore. Ironically, that last statement wasn’t ironic.

Did I become an astronaut today? No. Did I do anything important today? No. Did I post on my website and write something completely uninteresting? No. I mean, yes. I mean, I saw a rat today. Wait, that was two days ago. Time blurs together when I’m not having a career.

Today on Seeing Orange, Max and Sarah hang out with brother-in-law Peter. They go to a swap meet, hang out at the apartment, have dinner, and watch TV. Next up, Sarah goes back for a second week of school, and Max does something yet to be disclosed.

Today I walked down the street and rented a DVD. It was sort of like when an astronaut goes away from the ship on a spacewalk: I didn’t go farther than I had to, I accomplished a purpose, and I brought my own oxygen. Oh wait, I just used the air in the atmosphere to get my oxygen. That’s why I’m not becoming an astronaut: I like my air to be organic, because you’d never know if someone used steroids to grow the plants that produced your canned air. And then you’d be contaminated. (That was for you, Mom).

I didn’t explicitly mention it before, but, after eating at a local Jack in the Box, Sarah got food poisoning (last week).

In other, unrelated, news, I was out walking early Friday morning, and I saw a rat run into a hole in the bottom of a local eatery. To save said establishment from embarrassment, I will use a pseudonym for it from now on. With that said, Sarah and I will probably think twice about taking our business to the local Rat in the Box.

Okay, you don’t have to say anything; I know what you’re thinking: if I make a comment, any wit or insight will be completely lost in the blinding effusiveness of the post. Go ahead, look up “effusive” at dictionary.com; you know you want to.

I command you to comment on the long sentence.

Sarah’s first week came to a conclusion without much of a conclusion: she has to go back in tomorrow to plan for next week, but she’s getting the hang of things. I stayed up all night and walked 4.5 miles to a local high school to play basketball. I’m trying to normalize my sleep schedule, and that was the best idea I could find. It makes sense: normalization through abnormal behavior.

For the record, that was a 460 word sentence, and I’m out of breath.

P.S. According to Microsoft Word, the sentence was not, I repeat, not, a run-on.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if I started writing a sentence with the phrase “have you ever wondered what would happen if I started writing a sentence with the phrase”, but I didn’t actually have an end to my question so I just kept typing more and more words, which made less and less sense and eventually trailed off into some sort of run-on sentence that didn’t really look as if it would ever end unless I stopped typing what I was currently typing on a keyboard that I recently purchased as part of a computer bundle that I found at Best Buy, where I also found that I could buy the computer bundle and receive quite a bit of money back if I mailed in some rebates to a company that offered some sort of mail-in rebate that I don’t really understand but will try and take advantage of anyway but will probably end up not receiving a check in the mail like the salesperson at Best Buy suggested I would because he knew that I would buy the computer if he told me what he did because I was in need of a new computer and also like to find a good deal when I can but don’t want to have to do a lot of searching around for it because I don’t really have that much energy because I play basketball a lot on days like today, which are nice and sunny with just a slight breeze, which cools down the temperature through a process that I will not discuss now because it would take up too much of your precious time, and I don’t really want to take up too much of your precious time because I know that you have many, many important things to do, such as read run-on sentences that I write because I don’t have a job or anything better to do and really could keep this up for all eternity but won’t because I don’t want to set a record because then I would receive unwanted publicity that would make my life public and cause lots of people to bother me with things such as job offers that I don’t want because I’m taking some time off to write things such as stupid blogs with long, run-on sentences, which, if you’ll refer to far, far above is actually a question, so, perhaps, I should end it with a question mark, but I won’t right now because that would be too easy, and I hardly ever to things the easy way, except when I want to go to bed which I will probably do after I get done writing this sentence, which might not end unless I do something drastic?

Sarah’s first bad day didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would. Hopefully it’s the last one ever. In fact, I’m sure it will be. I played basketball for three hours today and enjoyed the weather. According to meteorological data I recently came across, in June, July, and August, Newport Beach averages 0 days with precipitation (implying of course, that the entire summer goes without rain). How sad for us.

Continuing my “have you ever…?” series: Have you ever wondered if you, all your memories of past experiences, and all of the universe were actually created last Thursday? I haven’t.

Bertrand Russel did. He’s an early 20th century philosopher that I’ve never read. I’m not going to be the one to say it, but the entire concept that drove the Matrix films was stolen from Russel’s philosophy of “last Thursdayism”.

You’re right, I guess I did say it. It.

Day two seemed to go well: Sarah didn’t really have all that much to report upon her arrival at home. On the other hand, maybe she had lots to report but didn’t because she thought I didn’t have anything to report, and she was trying to avoid making me feel bad. I did have things to report, though: okay, I didn’t, but that doesn’t matter. Reporting from Report Beach, I’m a reporter.

Have you ever had an idea, an epiphany, if you will, that you just knew would make gobs and gobs of money if only you could figure out how to mass produce and market the good or service?

I haven’t. But if I did, I’d get off my butt, stop reading blogs, and figure out what to do.

Sarah’s first day wasn’t nearly as catastrophic as she thought it might be. It turns out that five years of dedicated training actually made her a good teacher, that, and all those natural teacher skills with which she was so generously endowed. (She started reading the blog again…). My day wasn’t catastrophic either: I played basketball by myself and cleaned the house again.

I think I've come up with a new term that I will use periodically when in appropriate company. It's called, "the barfs." In an unrelated matter, Sarah may have had food poisoning this weekend.

This just in, we have a bed. And by bed, I mean the largest sleeping surface this side of Dikembe Mutombo's house. Speaking of beds, ours is two twin mattresses side by side. Now that you mention it, in all actuality, this should be known as a twin mattress. Separate them, and they could be called single mattresses. Do you want to call the President, or should I?

Me: Quite frankly, I’m disappointed by my recent posts: there’s been no talk of astronauts, space, astronauts in space, or monkeys. (If you don’t see the relevance of monkeys to space, please excuse your ignorance). I suppose my motivation has been waning. After all, for what reason should I keep up the charade that I am consciously not becoming an astronaut?

Me: I’ll tell you why, you dolt. Because the astronaut shtick is not an endeavor to be achieved; it is instead a set of ideals by which you are living, and by which you might continue to live for the rest of your semi-adult life. These ideals are not solely embodied in one gimmick; they are exuded in every stupid poem, ironic short, and literary gamesmanship. Bask in it.

Me: No.

Me: Yes.

Me: Okay.

I have to tell you, I think I could put my talent to better use.

Sarah starts school tomorrow; I resume with nothing. We are both, undoubtedly, very good at what we will be doing. In fact, I'm thinking of going pro: it will take a lot of work and definite dedication, but I'm pretty sure that I can succeed with a bit of luck. Sarah is nervous. She'll be fine. Double fine even.

I'm verbose.

This post is blank.

My collection of Allen wrenches has grown considerably. For those of you who don't shop at IKEA, 17 or more come with every purchase.

I didn't see any woodchucks today, but I did see a groundhog.*


*A lie. However, in either case, the conscientious reader will note that the woodchuck and a groundhog are actually the same animal. The woodchuck/groundhog/whistle pig is a member of the marmot family whose name is determined solely by regional dialect.

Think that I made up that part about whistle pig? Head to the Appalachian Mountains and ask “Did you see the size of the woodchuck/groundhog that just scampered under your outhouse?" They won’t have a clue as to what you’re referring. If you don’t believe me, look it up.

Sarah worked on her classroom most of the day today. I cleaned the house, did laundry, and realized my occupation. Now, when people at church ask me what I do, I can tell them with confidence, "I'm a housewife."

(Note that my above comment ended with a period and not an exclamation point: this indicates that my tone deadpans, rather than changes to a higher pitch, at the end of the sentence. Understanding that point is the key to my literary intention.)

This just in: "chuck" has several definitions. Unfortunately, this convolutes my problem: as it turns out, the woodchuck could be a) throwing the wood, b) patting or squeezing the wood fondly under the chin, c) throwing away the wood, d) giving up the wood, or e) ejecting the wood, as in, the forcing of drunk wood from a bar for being too rowdy. And that’s just assuming that "chuck" is functioning as a transitive verb; don’t even get me started on what would happen if it was intransitive. Vexing.

Perhaps it could be better stated, "If a woodchuck was doing something slightly ambiguous with or to wood, would people still read my blog?"

I saw a woodchuck today*. I just have one question: in the expression, "How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?", what exactly is chuck? I mean, it's clear from the context that it's functioning as a verb in the sentence, but is chuck really a verb? I realize that colloquially it means, “to throw or hurl recklessly”; however, I’m quite completely unsure as to whether it actually should be used in this manner. I’ll check dictionary.com.


*Blatant lie

Am I wasting my life? Maybe. Have I already eaten too many packing peanuts to survive? Probably.

I realized today that literally tens of people have visited this site. It's just incredible to know the effect that just one person can make.

I'm not a genius; I've proclaimed that from the beginning (save for the brief period between years 3 and 23 where I oft proclaimed my intellectual superiority over all creation), but my ignorance was emphatically driven home today when I attempted to install a wireless network in my apartment. I did eventually succeed, mind you, but it took me much (much) longer than expected. In fact, in four minutes I'm supposed to go and play basketball tomorrow morning.

She really isn't interested: that last post was only brought about after I said something along the line of, "Hey, Honey, why don't you go and read my last post on the blog." In fact, that was exactly what I said.

Sarah earned $226 today. I earned $0, but I made up for it by eating nearly $34 worth of packing peanuts, which, as it turns out, don't taste all that much like their namesake.

I would just like to clarify, for the record, that I have NOT lost interest in this site, and that my precious purple is BACK!! Moohaahaha (insert evil laugh). I don't have too much to post about. Just a busy couple of days as I arrange and rearrange my classroom and try to get all of my ducks in a row before Tuesday. One wise colleague commented that I could spend every day and night in my classroom until school starts and still not be prepared. That means that at 5:30 every day I'm done whether or not I feel like I should be done :). And now this post is done!

~Sarah not Max

Today I wrote the introduction to my book: "If you could write a book, what would it be about? Well, it could be about anything: you might write about cheeses of the Alsace, the history of American furniture, or monkeys. This book isn’t about any of those things, because that would be plagiarism. Remember, you were writing those books. I am writing this book. As such, I’ll only write about things that were thought up by me. Some things that will be included in this book will be a brief section describing various cheeses of the Alsace, a chronological ordering of the history of American furniture, and a detailed accounting of how to catch and train wild monkeys."

I got stuck after that.

Until now I've used simple rhyme patterns.
I really don't think that it matters,
But I'll try and change:
Expand my poetical range.
Though I won't give up rhyming,
It'd mess up my timing.
A lot.

Today I went for a walk,
It wasn't around a block.
Using my feet,
I went down the street,
To Staples.
I bought some envelopes.

Today I sent/prepared precisely 4,521,998,687,958,940,392,6o0,943,098,630,948 rebates for a computer that I bought. When you factor in postage, I saved 3 cents. Wait, my mistake: I lost 3 cents (for those of you following along at home, I forgot to carry the 6).

Anywho, Sarah had her first day of school today. She'd been a little nervous, but, when she got home, I could tell from her face that she was relieved. And I mean that quite literally: one of her colleagues had written "I'm relieved" across her forehead in permanent marker. Apparently, some sort of pernicious hazing ritual dictates that new teachers must have their emotions visibly present on their person at all times.

She lost interest in this site, and now I can write whatever I want with no repercussions.