Today was strange. I took my last dose of antibiotics. I instigated a stupid argument. I walked around thinking about The Baader Meinhof Complex and whether my Hamlet-esque failures to act when I need to take action indicate prudence or a weakness of will. I tore everything out of the storage space looking for items that were never there and, furthermore, which I pretty much knew were never there and then put it back exactly the way it was before. I bought two toilet seats at Ace Hardware. I bonded with Skylar despite the rough start to the morning and actually had a great time with her shopping for sundries at our Wal-Mart "Neighborhood Market." We made up a version of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" about Sarah Palin featuring the line "Kill a moose! Kill a moose!" My parents arrived from Maryland unscathed. Skylar did the same thing she always does when she first sees them, despite a fever, which is basically to mock torture them as a way of eliciting more affect from them than they usually express. Now I'm getting ready to go to see Fantastic Mr. Fox in the hopes that it will wash away my RAF hangover and the Cure lyric that is my subject header here, which has been stuck in my head for most of the evening.