I suffered from several minor delusions today. Among them:

  • That it was November.
  • That I had not worn the same pair of socks yesterday.
  • That my shoes were dry when I walked across the hardwood floor of my trendy, upscale apartment.
  • That my apartment was of the trendy and upscale variety.
  • That my middle name was Randolph.
  • That peanut butter cookies are an acceptable substitute for any of the three major daily meals.
  • That my kitty was not the cutest thing in the universe.
  • That in England, they call football “soccer”.
  • That my beard makes me look somewhat suave.
  • That the musical is making a comeback.
  • That today is Sunday.
  • That I was right when I realized it was not Sunday.
  • That dragging my digital camera around everywhere makes me into some sort of photojournalist.
  • That if I bought the “Ab Roller” I would actually use it and see results.
  • That the numbers 359 and 953 are interchangeable.
  • That if I walked around Water Tower Place for an hour or two, I would not only be infused with the Christmas spirit and love my fellow man, but also get all my shopping done.
  • That I could get by on charm alone.

Fine then.

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