Number 200, and E.T. can't phone home

Amazingly, this is my 200th post. I'm not sure how I have written so many since mid-August, but somehow I find myself sitting here seeing 199 published posts on my Blogger dashboard. I guess I've had a lot to say.

I was in Blue Back Square today, doing my thing (you know, beat-boxing, juggling, making awkward balloon animals for old people, shoveling for fun, grifting), when I realized I had forgotten to grab the Whole Foods shopping list the Professor had written. One may think I did this on purpose, to avoid Whole Foods and the crazies that always seem to lurk within (fancy West Hartfordites, nutty health food junkies, snooty old people who I refused to make balloon animals for, the cool kids), but I truly intended on stopping in. Honest.

Since I don't have a cell phone, I decided to find a pay phone to give her a call. That's when I realized pay phones don't exist in Blue Back Square. Yes, apparently when new structures are now made, old technologies don't get included. I walked all over and couldn't find one. No little blue signed vestibules along the street. Nothing bolted to the side of the market. I could have sworn that I had seen one somewhere, but today they had shriveled up and vanished.

For a moment, I admit that I pined for a cell phone. The looming Verizon sign across from the market suddenly did not seem quite as evil. But I resisted. Like any grown man, I did not accept defeat, nor did I ask for assistance.

Actually, I did accept defeat. It was too cold to continue looking for a phone and my free two hours in the garage (thanks, Noah Webster Library) was about up. I tossed my remaining balloon in the trunk, along with my shovel, and drove home.

Hell of a story, ain't it?