whenever they play jive talkin' too early on a saturday morning the room seems to shimmer and my right leg goes numb
C going through closets and clothes today, a process I fear and abominate, because attending it is whole armloads of what-doesn't-fit-me-anymore, which is in the same shattered neighbourhood of Aging and Other Ruinous Effects of Time. Yes, you can keep your head down but blame, like drones, has always played fast and loose with the truth, and sometimes you'll get it in the neck for just being in the vicinity.
Another fun sign of spring in our neighbourhood: people sticking bags of dog poop between slats of fences, or hanging them off trees. So in a fit of human being-ness you took your (giant, untrained, probably half-insane) dog out to poop and you brought a bag and you scooped the poop into the bag and you tied it nicely and then suddenly you remembered where you lived and who you were so you hung it off a tree like some kind of inverted version of decorating or perhaps even making a statement like, Look at this, you pricks, this is what I'm all about.