My dog has gas. Sometimes I get introspective and maudlin. I worry about my future because I don’t have a job. I worry about my sobriety because, man, there are times I could really use a drink. I worry about my social life because, since I stopped drinking, I don’t really have one. Then my dog decompresses an air biscuit and I start laughing at the whole situation. Yeah, I know it’s completely sophomoric to laugh at my dog’s farts but I can’t help it. It’s not just the act itself, it’s the look I get afterwards. I’m laughing and she’s staring at me as if to say, “What? What’s the big deal?” Truth. What is the big deal? So I’ll study for the GRE, go jogging, and get out of my head. That sounds like a plan.

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