Three paragraphs

Walking home from work tonight I passed a campaign office and had the urge to burst in the door and shout "What can I do to get Courtemanche elected?!" just to see what they'd do. Although now I'm picturing the door being locked and me smashing into it in my enthusiasm.

Also, I had a dream this morning in which Kayla Turpin kept insisting that I help her blow-dry her hair. So eventually I did and it turned all white in the back. She tried to put it in a pony tail to hide the white parts, but everyone could see ("everyone" being whoever else magically floated in and out of this dreamscape), and we all tried awkwardly to assure her that it looked kind of cool. The dream Kayla Turpin fumed like no one has fumed before. So much so that the fumes dyed her hair black again. Then I woke up.

Tonight's plan: Tea.