I used to build

Lincoln Log towers

just to knock them down.

I think

I have not outgrown this.

Off-site = Over-heated.

Erg.

No band-aid.

No mole.

A stranger stares back

from the monitor mirror.

She smells like fabric softner

when she walks past my cube,

and it is comforting.

Sweet.

Merciful.

Heaven.

We're.

Done.

Overheard:

"We're alpha.

We're not numeric."

Arooooo!

Nervous:

Forget to unplug,

and watch every bolt,

from 15 minutes away,

strike your apartment,

specifically.

*beam*

(Dental cleaning,

don'cha know.)

Fact:

I am married

to the best man in the world.

Well, except Dad,

of course.

If you give a Sherbie a cupcake...

she'll get crumbs

in her keyboard.