I must tell you about the absolutely smashing sick day that I took today. I woke up at a comfortable ten fifty-three a.m. to immediately give Circles his daily batch of bloodworms to munch on and then jump on my bike. I took my bike to a nearby Watroba's market to buy three things: (1) a batch of 8 eggs (2) a small top round steak and (3) a new york times. It took me two register runs and an extra demand for a set of matches before I left the market's inside to sit at the outside picnic table. From there I made a bunch of phone calls that went absolutely nowhere and read an article about the increasing incidence of rape in Baghdad. On that note, I decided to put the newspaper away and save it for an hour or two before I would go to sleep so that I would have slightly more worldly dreams that night. I am tired of dreaming about things that are all too familiar. I rode toward home, jotting a phone number down on the way of a used Civic that has just enough tiny patches of rust to be within my price range. When I arrived at home I had a few good words with the kitty cat, Zero; something I can only do when nobody is watching. Next I went totally ape shit cleaning the house and getting my laundry in order which, to some, is a very exhilirating feeling. I found two things that I thought I had lost (in order of importance): (1) my chapstick and (2) my house key. In my whirlwind, somewhere between scraping toothpaste off the sink and rearranging the contents of the refrigerator, I had applied as a volunteer to the Smith College Museum of Art. Since I refuse to file papers, make phone calls, or request money from strangers at any time in my life, my job would be as a museum greeter. I think that this is an absolutely wonderful job to have because I can either expand upon my already delightful personality or, on the other hand, work out some of the kinks. I will let you know which one it is when the first ass munch who confuses the universal sign for "stairs" as "escalator" inquires to me about why he/she has to work his/her lazy ass to get to a lousy painting. I can't wait. Next I began to gather together the scrumptious dinner that I had been fantasizing about all day when I receive a phone call from my co-worker Lynn, who had been at work all day. She retells me the drama that had occurred earlier that afternoon when the fire alarm had mistakenly gone off because a few inexperienced welders took a lesson in ventilation while installing our new hot water heater. This all occurred during the most coveted part of my work day: nap time. The children woke up in unheard of hysterics. About that time, I was putting a clear coat on my nails to scrape off later. Love love love sick days. I then prepared a widly delicious meal which included top round steak marinated in a balsamic vinagarette, penne pasta in vodka sauce, and fresh green beans drenched in salt, pepper, and butter. With a full stomach, I then proceeded to give myself the worst haircut I have ever given myself. My mother would think it was too precious but question as to whether my fascination with my new garbage disposal somehow crossed a bad path with my imagination. Now I am waiting for my room mate to awake and fix it up a tad. I can see a small reflection of myself in the window and it doesn't look half bad this time around. Still, next time I see you...just be honest.