There is no (some) fucking way that things are just coincidental.
Sorry about the Prather thing.
Other stuff I meant to write.
Bathing time has come again.
The salt blows out my nose.
I seemed to think I needed to think.
I shouldn't think too much about it.
Just walk around, it will be ok.
I dreamed a dream I thought I had. Kaitlin was sitting on a frozen turkey on a highway overpass (Maitland Ave., for all who care), with Joe standing behind, waiting to push her down the hill (kinda like a pushcart race). Suddenly, Evil Guy (shadow only) passed the two of them riding a massive rectangular box/bucket of coleslaw along with his entire entourage (two coleslaws in front and two behind). It was very presidential. Thinking this was horribly wrong, another version of Joe came flying out of who-knows-where and chased Evil Guy down the street, riding a rickety old plastic carton of potato salad. Kaitlin, Joe (first one) and I all worried as we knew that the plastic wouldn't last against the pavement and, sure enough, it started to wear down until he was leaking potato salad all over the road as he slowed (having no potato fuel, I assume.).
Some things are too obvious.