The People That You Meet

Sometimes I am relieved to find I am not an actual crazy person. Today a person came in my store and did a "Meatwad" impression for 10 minutes, then took off his shirt and asked me to pin the bottom of it for him. He then went up the street to Fancy and told Sally he was a psychic who gets no respect from other area psychics because he is THAT good.

Yesterday someone emailed me the following:

"...From the depth and range of your words, I doubt anyone really "knows" you. Not your mother, or father, even you are unsure. However, I know some things. I know you are scared of poorly lit, dead end streets. I know your nightmare is a gianormous, empty, dusty, dark rundown drive-in where you're all alone yelling "..is anybody here" into a rising wind. I know that you worry that one day you will suddenly look up and find yourself abandoned in your sandbox..."

And then there's the random "poop on your doorstep" incidents.

Sometimes I am afraid to leave the house.