It was going to be a day where I go to the Allston library and watch cat videos for the morning before walking down a few blocks and catching the 66 bus to head back home. Max told me that it was a waste of time walking the extra distance to the 66, but I told him “mysterious ways mysterious ways mysterious ways.” Being in one place at the same time every day or even every other day is the hobgoblin that will get you gotten. But the thing is that gotten is an unknown unknown and today’s unknown unknown happened once I sat down at the computer. I could feel the edges starting to curl and when that happens, Diary, serious business is bound to occur. Sometimes licking my fingers and pressing them hard does the trick. I tried that a couple of times while cats and kittens frolicked here and there. You wouldn’t even know anything was wrong because of that shaggy mane of hair I have, but the curls progressed and that manifested the itching. Without too much of a fuss I ran into the bathroom and turned the hot water on. I waited. Cold doesn’t work. It’s only the heat that affixes the glue. I held it on with one hand and with the other turned the knob harder. It felt like a warm moist tissue-thin slice of spider’s web. Finally, the water got hot enough. I jammed both hands under the faucet. Before it could slide off I got the hot water on. And I pressed. And I threw more hot water on. And I pressed again. Around the temples. Under the chin. Around the jawline. It doesn’t happen that often, but when it does action must be taken. Mortals can’t see my real face. And neither can I.
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