I woke up just now under the kitchen counter. I promised myself I would never do that again. I think my problem was in forgetting to promise never to actually
fall asleep in the cabinet again. Now I have to revise and rewrite my whole rule book. Someone told me I left it in my backseat, but I can’t fucking find it and I wish I could remember who told me. Now somebody is out there with my goddamn masterpiece. Trying to quote me. Counting my blessings.
There isn’t much I can actually remember right now. The police wanted a sketch. Then this girl shows up, swearing up and down that she knows me but it’s not like I’ve ever seen her before. She knows somehow I have another secret book that makes any rule book obsolete. The ways to list the world. Now everyone wants to know where I’m keeping it. This is the sixth knock on the door. The seventh is when you start to worry. The sixth book is on the floor. That’s why I keep my stacks no more than five deep.