I really wanted to come on here and write something that would make me feel a little better about what I wanted to do, the jazz I'm going through, or the anger inside, but when I sat down to write I decided I didn't want to share any of that.
I don't know why, its not like anyone reads this, but just in case they do, I'd rather share fun uplifting things.
There is a green metallic pig that sits on our windowsill that is forever referred to as the green armadillo. It has a pig snout and a curly tail, two little pointy ears and a very fat stomach, but somehow my roommate had never stopped to think that it might not be an armadillo. When confronted with the evidence, she wondered how she had ever thought it was an armadillo - case closed, right?
Every time I look at it now, I think of it as an armadillo. The power of suggestion? Or just an unwillingness to change? I haven't a clue, but I'm thinking of naming him Charlie.
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