Ever had one of those moments where you’re doing something completely normal, like, say, making dinner, and all of a sudden you wonder what would happen if you threw the pan of stir-fry chicken across the room, screamed “GO STRAIGHT TO HELL!” and then ran outside and laid down in the snow? And maybe right afterward, a neighbor walks by and stops and asks you if you’re okay but you’re too busy cramming fresh snow into your face to answer, you’re eating it like it’s pure protein and you haven’t eaten in a month, so you just kick them in the leg and they get very upset and storm off, muttering something about you being a crazy person as they enter their apartment rubbing their sore leg.
No? Me either.
