When I came home, I found this Easter Basket on my doorstep. There was no note, so I could only apply my psychic powers to solve this mystery.
Eventually it came to me: It must have been my landlord. Sure It and I have had our differences, about, for example, whose obligations it was to fulfill the things It said It would do in the contract.
But this changes everything doesn't it?
Of course I could say more and more about the sheer enthusiasm for life this Lynchesque turn of events has generated. But the fact is, the above picture was taken nearly an hour ago. Now most of the candy is gone. And my Bum-Gut (in the words of Rabelais) is calling me away from the computer.
