Last night I bought some Frosted Flakes, because I was certain I would want some this morning. I don’t. I wish I had gotten cocoa puffs. It’s very disappointing.

Also, I drank too much milk. Regret. Probably flaming hot Cheetos and Frosted Flakes should not be eaten together. Wouldn’t it be nice to really know what you want? Or to realize beforehand if you’re about to make a mistake? I guess life would be pretty boring then, huh.

Oh, well, I’ll eat some more and live with the stomachache and probably do it again next week. And I’m OK with that! Maybe mistakes should be made. Knowing what you want is so mundane.

In French, the word “blaser” means to be chronically hung over. I want to do something exciting again.


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