Yesterday a goose died in the parking lot. Apparently it died of natural causes, as there was no evidence of a car hit or a coyote attack. It was prodded and flipped into a garbage bag and deposited in a dumpster. Generally I would allow nature to finish the job, but the human traffic would be disturbed by the scavengers' carcass raids.

This morning I walked past a large grey wooden box that houses recycling for sensitive documents. I have the only key and I empty these giant boxes quarterly for the shredding company. Sitting atop the box, next to the paper slot, was a large kitchen knife on an unopened box of Kleenex. I don't want to know the explanation, as the mystery is far more satisfying.

I have a bolt stuck in my tire. That's the third one since April. Am I lucky that I have not blown a tire, and that each mishap has plugged it's own damage until the removal and repair? Or is this bad luck due to the repetitive punctures?

I am moody and contemplative this week, and most of it is negative and pessimistic. During such times I try to peer into the kaleidescope of the strange that laces the everyday mundane, much like above. Somehow, the oddness this week has been grey and grim, much like both my mood and the weather.
1:04 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm