I am convinced that inanimate objects have secret plots against me. (This of course is in addition to the theory that large numbers of people who don't know me are also busy plotting my embarrassment and/or demise.)
Dear Readers, I offer for your consideration -the coffee which spilled out of the cup this morning, obviously the result of weeks of planning. Careful studies were conducted to determine the exact angle necessary for the cup (who was in on this plan as well) to tip to allow the coffee (the mastermind of the operation) to successfully exit the cup and onto the floor, and due to extensive practice the coffee on it's descent would manage to touch the tie of my robe which (coincidentally? I think not) had just been washed, dried and folded.
But let's not forget to mention the accessories to the crime, those innocent looking bystanders, otherwise known as the Overdue Rental Movies who just happened to slip out of my hand at the right time, causing me to make a grab for them, resulting in my other hand, the one holding the coffee cup to tilt ever so slightly and the rest, my friends, is history. A plot. A conspiracy.
As much as all my stuff hates me, they also for some reason hate my white cotton robe. Specifically the tie to the white cotton robe. Routinely Kitchen Utensil Drawer grabs hold of the tie and once firmly in it's teeth waits for me to back away resulting in the daily untie-ing of the robe and exposure of the naked body underneath. And then Utensil Drawer laughs one of those evil mucus-y Laughs of the Insane.
There is a chance of course that all of this was an accident, not premeditated by the objects or even something they are capable of even if they took the time to plan it. See even if they did all get together after I'm asleep at night and even if they did sit around and plan what they would do if, just like maybe I used to plan what I'd do if I had Wonder Woman Superpowers, they probably wouldn't end up doing any of it because well, they probably can't and even if they could they wouldn't waste all that energy just to mess with someone like me. I wouldn't be surprised by that quite frankly because no one gives me any thought whatsoever and also? No one ever has. I'm just a piece of the furniture. I'm nothing. Insignificant. A paint chip. A beige paint chip. A saltine cracker. Unflavored yogurt, the store brand.
In other news, I have PMS today.
This one goes out to all the men out there who are living with woman(women.) Understandably you have a little trouble when it comes to monthly dealings with the most Hideous of All Beasts, the Demon Hormones.
But. Look at it this way. It is a Mythical Beast, this demon. It has superpowers not only stronger than yours but more cryptic and mysterious. In other words, flames are likely to come out of any and all orifices at any time for any reason.
All mythical heroes have one thing in common and it's not bravery. It's smarts. They accept that they are no match for the creature they are expected to conquer - they cannot begin to take them on physically, but they also know that all mythical savage beasts can be soothed, calmed or? intoxicated into submission.
Dave is a hero, and as such he has studied the habits and temperament of the hideous fire breathing man eating creature he has been appointed to keep at bay. He knows what elixirs will calm and pacify this formidable opponent.
He knows what to come home with in the hopes of keeping his ass from being chewed.
It is called Ripasso.