And I'm standing there, wooden spoon in hand, and I just... start going off. Out loud. AT THE STOVE. Like "you know what's hilarious?? that someone who can type a 47-page essay about MS Paint brush pressure can't type a single DATE. Two numbers. June 14. It's not a SONG. It's not a POEM. It's a DATE. And if you can't produce it after 102 DAYS maybe the problem isn't my tone!!!"
And the stove is just... sitting there. Being a stove. Flame on. No opinion. No receipt.
And I caught myself in the middle of this - like my own voice pulled me out of it - and I'm gesturing at the burner with the wooden spoon, full courtroom energy, and the pasta is boiling over, and I'm ALONE in my apartment, and the stove has done nothing to me. It's an appliance. It doesn't know who FlameFury24 is. It doesn't care about the June 14 chain email header. It just wants to boil water.
But I kept going. I finished the rant. I ate the pasta. And I thought... this is what this board does to you. It puts you in a room with a stove and a wooden spoon and makes you feel like you're in a deposition.

Anyway. Day 102 tomorrow. Still no receipt. Broom undefeated.
e: typo on the smiley code but you know which one I meant
talk to the drawer, sheriff 


