After work, I saw a woman backing her station wagon out of a parking space while talking on the phone and eating a bowl of oatscream with a spoon. I longed to lay across her hood and mime a swimming motion, but I'm a busy woman with pies to eat. I walked home with the 40 hounds of hell biting at my heels. Made it home in record time. Alas, no pie at home; I wept like an orphan at the county fair.