Maroon Lepus

Last night I had a very strange dream. I was in the living room of my house, and my dad was getting ready to go on a trip. My sister was going to take her cat, Maurice, but she was going to keep him in a stroller. I didn’t think it was a great idea to take a cat to San Diego, but I kept my tongue, and didn’t say anything. My dad mentioned that the last time we took the cat to San Diego, my boyfriend let the cat out of the car and it was a terrible pain to try and catch the cat. I said something to the effect of, well, it isn’t as though he takes terribly good care of his cats, so maybe he just didn’t know any better. The weird part about this, is, of course, that my boyfriend does not have a cat. Actually, his dog wouldn’t really allow him to have a cat. Not because the dog is particularly vicious towards small animals, but because the dog is afraid of cats.

There was a rabbit smeared across the road near my house as I was driving to school this morning, and it made me think. I don’t recall ever hitting a rabbit, and I don’t ever recall being in the car when one was hit, but I still see dead rabbits in the road all the time. Clearly, they aren’t being hit by cars, but rather have some strange disease where occasionally, when crossing a mildly busy road they will just explode in a skidding fashion for three to five feet. I’ll call it lepus itineris finis (basically rabbit road death, I think) and it will be my great latin-named disease and I’ll become famous all over the world.

Alright, even I’ll admit that was completely silly and irrelevant. Besides, who would care? There would be no fame in my discovery, and no fortune. Happily, I’m sure that lepus itineris finis is not real, and it’s more like lepus itineris hit-by-a-freakin’-truck.

When I first got my driver’s license, my wonderful dad bought me a pick-up truck. It was fabulous. It was a really pretty dark green with the pinstripes down the side and the glitter in the paint. It was a stick, and I even got mats with frogs on them for the floorboards. The only problem was that I couldn’t see over the hood of the truck. I’m not a particularly short person, but my torso is, and I was about eye level with the top of the steering wheel. I was very, very crushed by this, because I like pick-up trucks too, and I wanted very much to be able to drive it. Unfortunately, it was not to be, and my dad sold the truck.

It’s kind of like those really pretty dresses with the elastic band under the bust that is supposed to keep everything in place. They’re great in theory, very pretty, but when I put one on, the elastic band keeps popping up over my boobs because they were ultimately designed for people with a bigger bust than I have, and I am never going to be able to wear them. This also goes for a particularly pretty shade of green, which unfortunately makes me look purple and sick.

I think there is a shade of maroon which is almost universally flattering, but they usually only make polo shirts out of it, which is a real shame because polo shirts really don’t flatter anyone.