flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
Clearly he’s distracted from the pillow fight by concerns about having to buy new feather pillows tomorrow. In fact, I remembered I had this one sitting around because last night I was craving some sort of salty after-dinner snack but didn’t have anything around (at least, anything that wouldn’t negate the time I spent on the treadmill. BTW, my thighs hurt.), and then I remembered that I own a hot-air popcorn popper and forgot I had it because it was still in a bag from a sleepover a few weeks ago.
This, by the way, is why I can’t use the crisper drawers in my fridge – if I can’t see it, it doesn’t exist.
And then I made popcorn with the power of hot air! And melted butter! Shut up, it wasn’t very much butter, and I’d rather use that than gross chemical stuff. And it was soooooo good. The only way my snack would have been more delightful is if David Tennant had turned up in a big blue box to put the kernels in my face. Ideally in the mouthal region, because popcorn up the nose hurts. I imagine.
Actually, forget it. If David Tennant wants to put popcorn up my nose, he can do that thing. I won’t mind at all.
It’s probably good that I’ll never meet David Tennant.