Five Perfectly Plausible Reasons Why I Am Writing This Whilst Sitting In A Shady Grove In Greenwich Connecticut
- That stygian hole in the basement turned out not to be an unguarded gate to The Underworld (or The Underworld is much more pleasantly sylvan than I thought)
- My fancy-pants wife has taken me on one of her book tours to serve as plebian color and pack mule
- My synesthesia is acting up and I'm actually eating a bowl of Cheerios in the nude
- I'm checking out Rosemary Wells' Rabbit Husk farm
- I'm in hiding from Pinkerton Agents, and those anachronistic fools will never think to check my blog
I like number 1 a lot. Ugh, I feel like I missed out on the world because I don't have a basement. Why do all the interesting things happen in basements?? I have an outhouse. Does that count for something?
Posted by: Burning | June 01, 2007 at 06:36 AM
I don't think Synesthesia works quite that way....
And having an outhouse trumps any basement, in my opinion.
Posted by: Celes | June 01, 2007 at 08:21 AM
Oi yoi yoi. That's it. Just Oi.
Posted by: Enna Isilee | June 02, 2007 at 01:06 PM
Yay! My outhouse has a purpose (besides its OTHER purpose)--to beat basements!
Posted by: Burning | June 03, 2007 at 03:31 PM