Death and His Friend

After changing rooms in my house for a different change of scenery I find myself finally settling in. It is my own space separated from responsibility and commotion by an old door that squeaks louder than boiling tea pot. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Changing rooms a year ago would have been a big deal for me, change scared me for a decade until a close friend told me to "man up." After that blunt answer I had no choice. I find myself comfortably numb upon my mattress and tapestries.

It is very serene out my window with a newly installed koi pond that I can stare down at from two stories. There is always action in the pond from the four frogs and four goldfish... that turned into thirty two goldfish. My mother asked me how such a thing could happen. I looked at her amazed with such a brilliant expression and told her simply that gravity had cursed us with not global warming, but with twenty life changing goldfish. Every year a fish or two tend to disappear. My mother is convinced that someone or something is playing a joke on us. Either that or maybe it could be the dozens of stray cats prowling the neighborhood, just a suggestion.

Off to bed to wake up to my character changing, ahem, enhancing job, where I am supposed to listen to customers complain about how it is my fault that an old woman clearly saw that orange juice was far past expiration but felt the need to drink it because she was "dying of thirst". In my opinion if she wanted attention why not get struck my lightening, that seems to be all the rage lately.