But who's counting?

Four years. Readers have come and gone, and I myself have waxed and waned in enthusiasm for this ceaseless task, appreciating the hits for the microscopically trivial successes they are and shrugging off the misses as just a part of doing this every single day. I think my handwriting has gotten better and then worse again in this time. The sheer number of sandwiches eaten, sleeps deprived, acts of arson fantasized, and romantic interests disappointed...it all starts to blur together, then permutate in a primordial ooze of stick figures and jokes without punchlines.

I forgot where I was going with that, but in conclusion: I'm not ready to stop yet. I hope to keep engaging with you, dear reader, in this lengthy and inconsistent futile journey. Thanks for sticking around this long.


Medical relativity

Mental Health
The javelin currently stuck through Roger's torso was having the worst day of all, and to top it off, it couldn't tell anyone. It was just one of many victims in the room, having been transformed from a reasonably content middle manager at a vacuum cleaner parts and repair catalog into a mute, inanimate projectile. And this, for the simple, accidental offense of sneezing on a full-time market analyst/part-time witch in the checkout line at the grocery store. She hadn't even taken the time to explain what would transform him back into a human, but if the fairy tales were to be believed, the javelin felt he had little hope of receiving the requisite kiss in the present situation.


I flew on a plane today

Editor's note: Except that actually, it was two of this guy, sitting directly behind me, feeding off of each other for two and a half hours.


Relative reactions

"Wait...80% less sad about my death? Or 80% less sad about the tapping?"
"Either way, actually, now that you point it out."


No way to win

Mental Health
The clouds glared down from a bright, deep blue sky. How a cloud could be so fluffy and yet so hostile was beyond anyone's capacity for explanation, but there was some serious stratospheric malevolence going on, and the sun appeared to be in on it as well. I took a deep breath and chanced several glances behind me, then darted out from the shadows into the full crushing light of day, with seven dreadful errands calling my name.


A nice day

Mental Health
The professionally friendly person had urged him to have a nice day, and he had responded with the requisite blandness. Little did he know that the very next day would be the nicest of his entire life, beginning with the smell of blueberry pancakes and ending, not unpleasantly, with the crackle and glow and smoke of an uncontrolled fire.


Tracking stats

That's weird, the 'human relationships' category has no entries for the past two years.


It's a day job

Mental Health
Meanwhile, something terrible was happening on the third-closest of the lazy, good for nothing balls of rock orbiting the demoralized sphere of massive and constant fusion reactions that gave life to its inhabitants. The terrible thing was that a fly had gotten into a house and insisted on buzzing past a person's ear at irregular intervals, making any sort of concentration basically impossible. This was really a shame, because the distracted person would otherwise have written a document that would advance human peace and prosperity by leaps and bounds, whereas with the fly's intervention, progress would continue to crawl along, sometimes even going in the wrong direction.


The depressionaut

Mental Health
The depressed astronaut was at the peak of his physical condition. He enjoyed some minor celebrity even as just one of many astronauts who were not the first ones to do anything. The pension he would receive upon retirement was generous, and he would always be comfortable. But looking down at the planet he had come from, he couldn't think of a really good reason to go back. He couldn't seem to access the energy he knew was there, couldn't quite force himself to return to the shuttle, where he was supposed to initiate the re-entry sequence. Maybe tomorrow he'd feel better, or maybe he'd wait to return until the oxygen began to run out. It was hard to say.


You are the champion

"Your one mistake was leaving your name on this rock above your hiding place. Still, it took me weeks to track you down."
"And what are you all dressed up for, anyway?"
"Buddy? You there?"


Revenge best served with icing

Disclaimer: crustaceansingles.com does not advocate wasting a perfectly good cake on revenge. Eat your cake, then get revenge some other way.


Thoughts and words

And, since that's just vaguely sad and not really funny at all, perhaps this will amuse you instead: