look at those buzzards

i woke up this morning to three babies on the floor.

ok, not real babies. nim's babies. the small, round, balls of hardened polyester and cotton stuffing she likes to pretend are living were scattered across my floor. the odd thing is, though, pink baby was there. and i could have sworn that pink baby died a terrible [yet completely unintended] dryer death a few weeks ago.

the babies threw my morning into a funk. i can't help but wonder if there was some message in their random placement. they made a weird sort of triangle with a definate tendancy of westwardness. does this mean i should ignore all of the obligations of today and slap on my boots and head out to the fields? should i investigate that side of the house? will a message burned into the sky from the sun, or perhaps a shooting star, appear from that direction some time in the near future?

regardless, i ought to venture into the world: bills demand payment, and i've a sneaking suspicion that soup should be made this afternoon.