Strange would be best.
“Strange as it may seem, I still hope for the best, even though the best, like an interesting piece of mail, so rarely arrives, and even when it does it can be lost so easily.” – Lemony Snicket
Strange, as it may seem. Indeed, Lemony.
Every once in a weird while, when the moon shines just so through the clouds, and I think I might not be able to go on stage one more time because I can hardly feel my feet for all the running and jumping and being I’ve been doing, I have to stop, and breathe, and be strange for a while. Yeah – strange would be best.
So I’ll walk downstairs and take a mug out of the cupboard, and as soon I get it filled with cold milk, I’ll take off my jacket and reach up into the pantry to retrieve the delicious Oreo cookies before stepping out the door without shoes. And I’ll sit down.
And I’ll sit in the pre(-but-minnesotan)-winter cold and champ down on a bit of delicious white and black circular heaven and smile at how great it tastes and grimace when the milk spills over too fast and gets on my shirt a little bit. And my toes numb and my fingers blush red while holding my camera to get a shot as I stare at the moon and think to myself, “Cheese? Bah – I’ve got this chocolatey goodness all to myself.” Good ‘ol Oreos.