Hey, Wanda......try sleeping with a palm cupped over your left ear......perhaps, it's that perpetual string of anecdotes that battered your right ear drum into submission to quietude and introspective research into methodologies in Applied Thanatology... for extracting extraneously unmitigated strings of words to express forgotten and repressed wanderings from the webs of entanglements, resulting in those dark-before-dawn oozing threats from beneath that sticky keyboard, gummy from peanut butter and jelly drippings and spilled java..... (And, by the way, I suggest the placement of a damp, unmercerized cotton towel on the floor, in front of the mail slot; you never know when someone's gonna send you a Venetian blown glass one-hitter chillum, of infinite Beauty, you know).......Not Everything is 'junque mail', but I'll be dogged to sort it all out! Drat!....now the dog, unable to chase the mailman, has, frustratedly, peed on the advertising mail, as it dropped from...
