The geography of the area was working against

soil at the bottom. It could be sold to offset the costs of the asphalt that would replace it. No resource going unused, except for common sense.

And common sense is just that common, that's why I hate it. If common sense was a dog I'd kick it until it's ribs turned to jelly. Now, what I really like is

common NONsense. It's true on both parts - it's quite common and always nonsensical. This belief is the only thing that keeps me sane less I claw at my face with every stupid

fold written into this script. No. I would soldier on. Insanity not withstanding. As a playwright / drama professor at the community college, I would

easily hide my neurotic habits. Characters wove together in my memory, lilting the rhythms of my disregulated emotions toward

tiny chihuhuas in pink fluffy purses. My lifelong fetish, the obsession that had triggered my neurosis, the guilty torment that had turned me into

someone who always demanded doggie bags. It got so I was waiting up all night for the Monica Lewinsky purses segment on QVC. I would call when she was on, and ask her about

the clasp, the sequins, the zip on the inside pocket, wether it was rainproof, fade resistant, organic, gluten-free. Anything just to keep talking. And then it struck me, after all

the hard work that went into this, it was completely pointless. No one would ever care about the stupid gluten-free sequins. Suddenly I felt