Alfie. That dog is slow as hell. And complacent.
That box of Wheat Thins over there because I’m hungry and they’re baked, not fried.
My freesia-scented votive candle. This place smells like absolute shit.
Those suitcases down in the basement. We’re going to Toledo next week.
My cousin Tawni because she keeps jumping off that goddamned diving board and I’m just trying to do this crossword in peace and quiet.
"Anybody seen my fucking sweater?"
