I am imagining an ivermectin croquembouche, maybe for Fourth of July.
I am imagining someone hiding it, then loudly exclaiming in their outdoor voice while in their bedroom in front of a passing, stray urchin, that I stole it and hid it. I'll tell you, at certain points in my life, I absolutely would have stolen an Ivermectin Iceroot Creambeer Float. (For science!)
I'm not imagining why a stray, passing urchin is in a bedroom, but I am asking... can urchins be anything other than “stray?” Has there ever been a “non-stray” urchin? Is that even
possible? The mind reels. Perhaps a tiny a****** pretending to be a tiny–mannered mold-indifferent urchin, and not a minor a******?
I must study the likelihood of this possibility. This burning, yearning desire
to know things, that I possess, is a burden, but it is one that I carry gladly.
It's not like an obsession, or like herpes. It's more like.. a signpost, just up ahead. Unlike herpes, there is no “cure” for curiosity.
Except, maybe for a diaper bill. Meanwhile, Happy Independence Day...
in advance. Thank you for reminding me.
Kudos.
