Bossy has two windows in her bedroom, but it’s the one directly next to her bed that she’d like to discuss today, where discuss equals she’s going to tell you something and then you’re going to call the psych ward on her behalf.
A few times a day for the nine years Bossy has lived in her house, a strange thingy will catch Bossy’s eye directly outside this window.
Maybe Bossy is busy not making her bed or maybe she’s not bending to pick up the magazines that litter the floor next to her pillow—when suddenly this thingy will distract her from the chores she’s not doing, and it will make her heart race a little.
There—do you see it? On the roof of the house next door!
It’s a rat! A silver rat! An enormous silver rat on the roof of the house next door!
And then Bossy will grab another look and be all, “Silver rat, my arse! You’re just a thingy! A vent thingy,” and Bossy is confident in her proclamation because chances are it’s only been fifteen minutes since the last time she had this conversation in her head about the silver rat on the roof of the house next door.
But it’s just a vent.
Except fifteen minutes from now, Bossy will climb her stairs to not hang up last night’s clothes, and she will think she sees the same silver rat all over again. Because that’s the way Bossy rolls, where rolls equals she hopes when the psych ward comes, they roll her out on a gurney.
Lastly, Bossy would like to announce the winner of yesterday’s contest. Congratulations Annie! Bossy emailed you.