I don't have a clue. It's all too true, I'm afraid. How does one become more involved in--anything? Dunno. How long has it been since I vacuumed? Can't even offer a good guess. What caused that two-day stint of The Horribly Sore Back? Must've done something, but--skips me mind. Just how did all these daily cryptograms show up on the ol' email list? When am I gonna catch up on them? Why do I have all these floaters traveling across my eyes on some days, but not others? What should I do about the chronic pain in my left foot? How can I stop vegging out so much? Why do I rarely remember my dreams? Why is it easier to sleep on the futon than in bed?
Why is a woman named Donna Simpson trying to reach a record-breaking weight of 1,000 pounds? Will she die before she makes it? And if she does achieve this gruesome goal, will she feel that she's accomplished something--big? Why are there random shoes strewn on the floor of the coat closet at work? Why does the youngest teller sit around and break the pens when he's bored? Why do some young women wear glasses with no prescription? What a strange fashion this is--I mean, who actually goes out of their way to wear glasses? That's just weird.
Why don't I stop typing gibberish and just go to bed? One thing I do know: tomorrow morning, I won't wanna get up.
Why do I keep posting pictures of cats?