So it's that time of year again. No, I don't mean the holiday where people wear black and think about dead people. You know, the day where most people expect party hats and cake made with too much shortening. For me, it started off with a bang in a nightmare about walking on a mountain road alone. Yesterday's nightmare was more impressive--lots of bright orange crawly grubs and the rodents the size of dogs with evil black eyes that gave birth to them.
Anyways, I hope most people in real life don't realize why this day is peculiar to me. Because then they'll expect me to expect something out of them.
