And I thought it was going to be a bad night.

It was, but when I got home there were lightning bugs flying around the yard.

They made me happy.

Black eyes.

Like a doll's eyes.

She almost made it.

Then I had to write that paragraph.

I just had to ask "What if...?" and her fate was sealed.

Unless I bring her back in another draft.

(But on the plus side, that story is a long way from being written. I have to get through this monster first...and then the next one.)

They don't call it that for nothing.

Is it just me, or does anyone else see how putting wind turbines in Tornado Alley would be a bad idea?

More Wisdom from the racks:

The difference between Juniors clothes and Misses clothes is that Juniors have no butts.

-random woman talking to her daughter.

Thank you, ma'am. It's all so clear now.

I'm going to write one too!

In case you've never seen this, I think it's funny.

(Be warned. There's a little bit of language, so impressionable young minds, mind your ears.)

And now, without further or due, I present to you, the Axis of Awesome singing "The Four Chord Song":

How much is lost?

The proliferation of reusable grocery bags has me thinking, and it also has me asking this question: since a lot of them are just hanging in the store, ready for you to pick them up if you decide to buy one, how many have been stolen since they became so widespread? How many people have picked up a bag, taken it somewhere in the store, torn off the tag, used it to shop, and then never paid for it. Now, you can say, well, they aren't that expensive, but come on, a dollar's a dollar, and if someone stole a dollar from me, well, I wouldn't be too happy. As far as I know, the bags don't have anti-theft devices embedded in them, so who's to say that a lot of them aren't going missing? I mean, I want to think the best of people. Really, I do, but well, I've seen a lot of people do a lot of things that they shouldn't have, and while they might be remorseful when they're caught, I find it harder to think that they'd be remorseful if they hadn't been. What's next? Are they going to have the store cops in charge of preventing shoplifters focus on the bags, or even hire people for the express purpose of monitoring the bags? That's going to get expensive really fast, don't you think? I don't know. Maybe I'm putting too much thought into it. Maybe I'm being pessimistic. Maybe I've been working in retail for too long. Anyway, it's just a thought I had, and considering that the issue never seems to get mentioned, I was wondering if anyone had ever thought about it at all.

I hold to these truths:

I am not a robot.

I am not a wizard.

I am not a robot wizard.

(But sometimes I wish I was.)

It should be pretty obvious, actually.

If you try to get through the day using a skeleton crew, you get skeleton crew results.

I only know because I actually owned her.

The original did not wear pink heels.

They were ballet slippers.

What they had to do with working out, I have no idea, but they make more sense than those heels.

(Oh, and the unitard wasn't shiny, but I'm willing to let that slide :))

Only 216 pages to go...maybe.

Yeah. Maybe. We'll see what happens when I reach the end. If not, well, there are only another 216 after that.

These are not fighting words.

I think it's funny when real people argue about make-believe people.

Especially when said people were on a cartoon from the 80s.

About giant robots.

And people in jumpsuits.

And a lizard/fish guy who might or might not be wearing a dress.

And a guy with an accent who might or might not be dead.

And a cat with a mohawk.

You know, deep, philosophical stuff.

I just wish I knew where they found all of the extra time to do it.

So if any of you are reading this, you can tell me.

I won't blab.

Just ask all of the people who have trusted me with keeping their secrets.

But you can't.

Because I won't tell you who they are.

Sorry.

That's what you'd call good timing.

The song ended with a heroic flourish at the exact same moment the chapter did.

Now that's frustrating.

The worst part about having a song in your head is when you only have part of the song in your head, and it's the speaking part, and you don't know what song it is, and you can't find out what it really is, and you're not even sure if you have the words right. Oh well. It will come to me eventually. I hope. Maybe I should listen to the radio and hope I hear it...