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January 11, 2011
Today I have decided to live on the ceiling.

I could play jump-rope with the fan, skipping over each revolving blade to the tune of a children's nursery rhyme. I'll sit on the lamp and pretend it's a stool. I will stare up at the sunspots on the floor and wonder why the sun never shines where I can reach it.

"Look!" I'll say. "Look how clean I've kept the house! Not a single bit of trash underfoot."

Then he'll be proud, and we'll go out from ice cream on the moon, and maybe he will love me.