They are all out to get me

I'm a happy boy this morning. The Colts stomped all over the Texans in playoff football yesterday.

My bathroom scale has designs on running for public office. It practises by lying to me every day before I climb into the shower. The mirror might be an accomplice: every day when I look into it it doesn't show me, it reflects an old man. And to dig deeper into the conspiracy theory that is my life, why does the barber lady scatter gray hair all over my lap and the floor when she cuts my hair?

I have to drag the rest of the Christmas stuff up into the attic this afternoon. It is supposed to be seasonally warm and I want it out of the garage. Unfortunately this load includes the two trees. The one box is very large and very heavy. The rest of he stuff I can manage, but I need help with that one. 

I off to get more coffee. Then I might try to go for a walk. Or I could sit my rear on the couch and finish binging on The Last Kingdom on Netflix.  

I'll take Uhtred for $1000, Alex.