Sorry You Asked?

How is it going?
You asked.
This morning Lyle utilized his weed whacker around 6am. Ralph in turned did his sentinel duty to bark constantly at Next-Door Lyle and his noisy apparatus. When Lyle does anything with his lawn it sounds like he is doing it right next to me in bed. I have awoken many times to the thought that I was cuddling with a lawn mower.
Why did 1947 have to build houses so dang close together?
We might as well be sharing heating vents and refridgerators and gas bills.
I was worried about Other-Next-Door Sue Ellen who has the pleasure (I am so sure) of sleeping in her bedroom only feet away from our Dog Mahal.
Sometimes I think she has a model of our house in her living room and everytime Ralph and Duchess fight over a chewed-up water bottle (toy of their choice) she sticks a pin in the model and hopes we move soon.
I've taken to reading about Breatharianism and the exploits of Wiley Brooks. It makes sense to me, which doesn't make sense at all.
The Professor's beard is almost brushing the floor and at times I have to ask,
"Who are you?"
Because I forget.
"I'm me!"
He gently reminds.
Then someone will call him and ask,
"This is studio 3, are you still growing out your beard for the show we may or may not cast you for?"
And yesterday at dinner Seth kept asking.
"Will somepingbody get me a fork?"
And now somepingbody is the buzz word around here.
Will somepingbody buy me some new shoes?
I am jonseing for a new pair.

And so it goes.

How does it go with you?

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