words, words, words

I tend to treat the fact that I’ve been shot pretty lightly, even immediately after it happened John and I started goofing off about it.

But this time of year is always a bit tricky.

All of the fireworks of the Fourth of July always sound like muffled shotgun blasts to me.

I don’t think that it could be considered Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, I mean, it wasn’t that bad when it happened, but I still want to duck and cover when the booming starts.

Much like the guinea pig at Petco, who had a sign on his cage that said, “Loud Noises Scare Me”.

Yeah, little buddy, me too.

A woman customer at Baskin-Robbins asked for carob chips in her ice cream.

At Baskin-Robbins?