It stormed so hard last night (this morning?) that the world ended for a few minutes, but don't worry. It was just for a few minutes, not even five minutes, and nothing really bad happens if the world only ends for a few minutes. True story. And by true I mean I don't have any idea what I'm talking about.
It DID storm so hard that the world ended for a couple of traffic lights this morning. What? You think traffic lights don't know they live in the world? You think they don't have feelings? Well, they do. They go red when they're angry, green when they're happy, and yellow when they're constipated. And YES constipated is a feeling. You think they turn colors for any other reason? You're wrong. Deal with it. There's something really disconcerting about a traffic light being completely dark. Mostly because I don't trust other people to not barrel through the intersection and kill me, kill me dead. No one did, though. But since there were two traffic lights that were out and I was on my way to work, I naturally assumed that my office building wouldn't have power when I got there. Because that's logical. Only not, because my office building totally had power and ALSO they expected me to work. PSHAW.
I wish it had been storming last night when Heidi and I decided to go running. But we had to run, for you see, we had Penn Station for dinner. That was the deal. We could have Penn Station, but we had to run. Right as we started, I was all, "didn't we decide not to run anymore after eating Penn Station because it makes us want to vomit?" and Heidi was all, "um, yeah, oops." Um, yeah, oops, indeed. I felt like vomiting after running about five steps, at which point I wanted to be done for the evening, but running five steps doesn't seem beneficial. Although, if I would just start with a five step run and add five steps to my run every day, that'd probably work better than my current running schedule, which is "run a couple miles four times a month and try not to pass out or throw up or die." Ah, well.
I don't think the run helped our stomachs OR our brains, because during our cool down lap around the pond, this happened:
Heidi: I've counted four tennis balls in the pond so far!
Me: Man, those people aren't very good tennis players.
Me: Do you think our pink tennis ball is still down there?
Heidi: I hope so. I hope the ducks play with it.
Me: The ducks play tennis?
Heidi: Yeah, they use their bills as tennis rackets.
Me: Plus, they can fly, so that helps.
Heidi: Wanna know how they serve?
Heidi: They put the ball in their mouth and just throw it.
Me: Wow. Do the ducks play doubles tennis?
Heidi: Totally. They play against the geese.
Me: The geese! I hope the ducks win, I hate the geese!
Heidi: Of course the ducks win. They're the Mighty Ducks.
Heidi: Nine! I counted NINE tennis balls now!
And then were were all, "quack . . . quack . . . quack . . . QUACK . . . QUACK . . . QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK," only not really, but I wish that'd happened. I mean, I don't think it's possible for our neighbors to think we're any weirder. After all, there was that time we threw a spoon in the pond and Heidi's underwear in a tree. Also, that time I got chased by a zombie.