Oh, Woe

I was on the very cusp of despair when I remembered that I must turn the clocks back. Good, I thought, that's one more hour on the cusp. I will use that hour to pack my bags. I am buying the Oregon Vortex, see. I'm going to live in that crooked little house where tennis balls roll uphill and tall people are short. It's a tourist attraction now, but I aim to heal that blemish. No soggy, clomping, slack-jawed t-shirted sandal-shod tent-pitching caramel-appreciating tour-suckers in my Vortex. They'll screw with my energy. They'll disturb my chi. They'll deoxygenate my uniquely healthy oxygenated spring water. They'll replace my beef jerky with tofurky jerky. They'll replace my regular coffee with Folger's crystals. They'll try to heal me with crystals, Folger's or otherwise. They will make noises with their mouths and shoes. Some of them may hit trees with sticks. Oof, I can't take it. I can't take it!

Anyway, I reset the clocks.