Today, I tricked the dryer into accepting a Canadian quarter, but something that really got me to me is that sometimes, late at night, I stand in my window with my kittehs and I watch all the cars drive through the busy intersection. I wonder where they're going at this late hour, who is with them, what their names are, and if I ever met them would they be potential characters in one of my stories. But tonight I mostly just wondered why I care and why I am awake staring at them at two in the morning wearing only my under-roos...
It confirmed my suspicion that I am really just a character in a badly written story, probably one of my own...
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