Over the weekend

Richard and I did have one productive conversation.

I mentioned to him my plan to be a prophet when I grow up. Maybe it is the disease or the treatment, but he seemed oddly unfazed by my idea.

However, he was quick to point out that prophets weren’t known to be wealthy folk. Other than a couple of false prophets, they all died destitute and long before their time.

Okay, I have no problem being a false prophet. Cool by me. Some may worry that it will sully the family name, but from what I see, this family name needs some sullying. Bunch of goody-two-shoes is all I see.

I’ll let you know next time I have a vision, or whatever they’re called.