When I went down to fetch lunch just now, a woman explained to me that what I wanted, she had, and in addition, what I needed she also had.

Her simple request was that I give her a little respect when I get home.

And I thought, that seems reasonable.

I can’t imagine how she knew my kisses were sweeter than honey, though. She must subscribe to my newsletter.

Today in the downstairs cafeteria, there was no band, but instead a DJ.

And, for some inexplicable reason, a woman wandering around with a huge, pink wig.

I think she is probably technically a “clown”. But I can’t imagine what she was hired to do.

Perhaps she’s an existential clown. She just is.