Right now, as I type, I am cooking a dead chicken in my oven. There is a prodigious quantity of smoke in the air from the burning olive oil that I am not quite 100% sure on how to eliminate. I ate strawberries, cole slaw, cheddar cheese, Mediterranean salad, coffee, and part of an energy drink for breakfast. . .at 100 PM. This morning I read the first three chapters of a Ted Dekker novel at a laundromat while enduring the furtive gazes of emotionally-dependent, somewhat overweight, and most likely single women. And my fingers are wrinkly from washing dishes.
"It is not good for man to be alone."
God said this, not me. Since he made humans, I am inclined to think he knows what he is talking about.
Other news: Saturday morning at precisely 7:07 AM, in Starbucks, I got a free venti-sized vanilla bean frapacchino.
God likes me. I'm happy.