For most people, a good day involves lounging about, munching bonbons, and usually involves a minimum of work. For me, a good day must, by nature, include solving an unsolveable mystery. Last Sunday I had the extreme pleasure of doing such a thing. Early that morning I donned my habitual garb, and headed into the world in search of a place where I was needed. Not many parts of this fine world are able to survive long without me, so my search waas not long in being fulfilled. I came upon an old soul in an extreme condition. Two biker dudettes had hijacked her car, stolen her starbucks coffee, and left her exposed to the frigid winds.
Such ruffians as these are dangerous and must be carefully, but roughly handled. I promptly took them by the ears and hauled them off to the rehabilitation center for Starbucks addicts.
The therapy involved three bags of chips, sharing pictures and checking e-mail, and all 4 episodes of Wives and Daughters, and when a full recovery had taken place, a trip to Starbucks was allowed.
P.S. I acted as counselor to the ruffians, therefore it was necessary to disguise myself in the pink hoodie so as not to excite unkind feelings against me.