I've never been a particularly "bad" kid. . . or at least I don't think I have.
I have, however, been known to get into pickles when left unattended. It doesn't matter that my mother will come home in half an hour to a graffitied living room sofa or that the Brita pitcher really doesn't work the same after having "filtered" 8 ounces of India ink, there's just something about the immediate impossibility of judgement that makes me do weird stuff. I suppose I forget that actions have consequences when no one is there to remind me.
Lately, I've been home alone often. Apparently nothing's changed.
I found this:
and did this:
I found this:
And did this:
and I found these:
and did this:
Today I found this:
. . . I haven't decided what to do with it yet.
