The more I sleep, the more exhausted I feel. However, I’ve run out of food and I figured it wouldn’t boost my stamina to die of starvation. So, while yesterday I was high on Ibuprofen, today I administered Speed 8 (not the speed, but the ultimate legal mind and body stimulant) and unenthusiastically ventured out to get groceries.
I took a shortcut. Two, actually, if jaywalking also counts. (I’ve been very adventurous today, you see.) As some people would call it, I’m asking to be raped (or even worse, robbed) because I took the road less travelled. So little travelled, in fact, that you never meet anyone there.
I only met someone once in the shortcut. It was a group of young males, the prospect of which horrified me because I happened to be carrying home my new smartphone at that occasion. I was only partially relieved when the men approaching turned out to be Franciscan monks. My fears proved insubstantial, as they didn’t try to convert me.
Today I met no one in the shortcut, but I was met with loads of mud. This I anticipated, but I’d rather wade through mud than walk a bit farther than absolutely necessary. I was silly though to have taken Speed 8. I should’ve got me some Redbull, which gives you wings, so I could fly over the muddy stretch—or from door to door and back, for that matter.
This reminds me I have a broom at the terrace. I use it for snow shovelling for lack of better tools. Perhaps the broom could be converted into a flying machine even without the use of Redbull. After all, a cat I already have, so I’m half-witch. But I got taken away. Besides mud, I have nothing to report really. I know, right, what a disappointing story.