It is Saturday night. I am at home finishing writing a paper due tomorrow instead of going to either the Pacific Baroque Festival or the Harry Manx Concert. I briefly left the house this evening to visit my local grocery store for sustenance. On the way, I smelt the kids smoking pot in the bushes along the pathway and the sweet aroma of newly fertilized flower beds outside of the paint shop. Instead of getting the usual crap to munch on whilst writing, I managed to leave with tomato juice and carrot sticks. I’m not sure what is wrong with me.