"Foiled By the Letter H!" and "Judging My Granddaughter"

For nearly two weeks yon passing I have been unable to access my computer access web networking blogspot, and for this, Dear Reader, I apologize. The problem was that in the night a spyman must have come into my house without permission and replaced the power button on my computer with the H key and then broke it, for I have spent many hours of many days pressing holding down the H button, and the computer would not go on. Only today when I complained of lack of sleep from holding down the H button did my godson Paul point out that the power button is not in the center of the keyboard, but altogheter elsewhere. So now I’m confused as to the spyman's intentions, but I will get used to that. The good news is that the computer is on.

This has been a traumatifying time for me, because the letter H has long been one letter that I do not trust with any rigor therein or whereby. And to spend long hours pressing it and staring at it has furthered my frustration and ill feelings against it. Some say it’s just a letter, but I see it for all of which what that it is whence and hitherto therefore. Like two vertical golems of darkness bound together at the waist stands the letter H, pouting in a corner, ready to pounce on me. Think of all the bad H words. “Hatred”, “Hell”, and “Hahahaha!” (as in a maniacal laugh) all come immediately to mind. But it is a subversive letter as well, hiding in words like “Happy” and "Heaven" and “Hello Honey, how are you? I hold your hair in a horse harness,” which are perfectly innocent until you notice the golems with their bad attitudes. I just try not to make eye contact, hoping they will get bored and leave me alone. But holding the key down for hours has made me cross to the darkside for longer than I had hoped, and I now find that I’m using the letter H more than ever before, which could become a problem. Stop it, please. Thank you.

So in addition to that, new things are happening. The weather is getting colder which is leading to aches, pains, confusion and I no longer sleep in my tub. Therefore I have lots more time to make my business phone calls. I have caught up on my necessary phonecalling through March, so I decided to make a call for next May.

My godson Paul’s goddaughter Brandy (I think of her as a granddaughter) is in the Girl Scouting of America Organization Agency, and their troop will have a beauty competition when the weather gets nice again so that they can stop fighting over who is the prettiest. This is an instrumental step in the lives of these young girls, because the winner will get into the college of her dreams and be a doctor or a homemaker or something. I care very much about Brandy and want her to do well, so I agreed to help with the organizing of said pageant. A phone call to a professionally judgmental person can be listened to in the player below.

Espionage Against Me

Getting to my dance lessons has been difficult thus far. I have remitted full payment for the class, and today was supposed to be the first one, but I had to miss. I was only 20 minutes late when I was about to leave, but during my customary detailed inspection to make sure nothing is amiss in the apartment, I noticed a crack in the floor that perhaps had not been there before. I followed the crack and it seemed to run the entire length of my living room. I immediately suspected that it was a spy-type thing where perhaps people could follow me from one end of the room to another to achieve some sort of goal of their own of which would not be shared by or helpful to me. I attempted to thwart them by stacking old magazines and newspapers on top of the crack, thereby creating an opaque substance of which for them to not see through.

I had just completed my thwartful task when I found a second crack in the floor, equal in length to the first. I rushed to my magazine and newspaper room, but had only enough to cover half of the crack. At this, I went reeling and into a shopping spree to Walgreens of which where to buy more magazines and newspapers but the man there said he didn’t sell those, only pastries, and did I want to order anything. I was unaware that Walgreens had changed over to selling only yeast breads, but this is fine with me as I like eating a croissant from time to time, for my constitution. I bought the pastries and took them home.

Upon home arrival it was clear that the stack of magazines had been moved no less than a quarter of an inch of where I had placed them, so I readjusted them and filled the other crack with the pastries.

When I found the third crack, it became clear I would not make it to my dance class, as I was 3 hours late and the class is only an hour-thirty. I laid down flat on top of the crack to block at least 5 feet 1 inch of the lateral, floor-length peephole. From this spot I could just reach the phone to call the floor man and he said that cracks like the ones I am experiencing are perfectly normalized in a hardwood floor.

Soothed by his words and promises, I went out to buy some baton twirlers at Walgreens. Because they recently decided to sell only bread goods, I was prepared to use breadsticks if need be. However, when I reached the Walgreens, their new policy is that they sell only Mexican food and beer, so I am using tostadas which is messy, but luckily my floor already is bedded with newsprints and magazines on of which to catch it all. I trust I will catch up with the rest of the class in a timely manner.

Alright, Honey. Bye-bye.