The hatching of a pulse
My pandemic year 2 birds have hatched. I do not know how many. At least two. Probably more. They make me happy although maybe not as much joy as last year’s birds. Year 1 birds really affected me. It was an emotional experience. Now I’m just pleased the birds returned and found safe haven again in my life and we keep to ourselves mostly, we aren’t sharing stories and hopes and secrets like before.
In other news. Remember the possibly attractive scrabble player who was destroying me in wwf? Well the game is taking forever to finish and I have been able to only play single letters for the past fifteen rounds. so I finally said to him please please will you please just put me out of my misery. And he responded! And he told me I was funny! He said in fact “your quite funny.”
So now I need to Hercules poirot this shit because you can’t be a person who absolutely wrecks me in scrabble and also say “your funny” and then carry on as if everything is fine. As if a train has not just gone off the rails. These things are not congruent. Something is amiss. Strange things afoot. I will find the detail in the devil.
This is my life now I barely have to wear clothes anymore and who cares about deodorant, but I will, I shall, I must get to the bottom of this, this chaos, this mystery, the case of the wwf crushing, and the truth will be revealed.
Or not. I mean who cares. He’s probably just a cheater.