There are scathes more than usual this year. Hop, hop, buzz. We are plagued by these critters--such numbers must be a signs of some event, a message or an apocalypse maybe. Maybe these signs aren't found in a religion's holy books on this particular planet, not yet anyway. Hindsight will prove me a soothsayer.
Looking back, someone's bound to see them as signs as clearly as the chosen saw the locusts and frogs. I was here first, people.
In other local news: air conditioning. Aaaaaaaaah.
In even more local news, my "s" button seems to have a problem. I have to slam my finger down on it, hard, and then it sticksss. It makes my writing look like a snake's doing the dictation.