Every morning I take my dogs on a walk, and every morning I step over cracks so that I don’t break my mother’s back. Sometimes I will see a penny and pick it up so that all day long I’ll have good luck, but only if it’s heads up.

When I get back home, I pack up and get in the car to head to work. At least once a trip, I’m mouthing at other drivers, “no cuts, no butts, no coconuts.” Sometimes I also have to use sign language to get my point across.

Oftentimes at work, a lot of my clients say they “never got my email,” or they “followed the steps, but the computer made a mistake.” All to which I exclaim, “Liar, liar! Pants on fire! Nose is longer than a telephone wire!”

As the sun sets, I walk the dogs again and look for the stars to start their shift. I’ll say to myself, “Star light, star bright, first start I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.” I can’t tell you what I wish for, ‘cause then it won’t come true.

After dinner and sitcoms, it’s time to put my daughter to bed. She tells me I’m her best and that she loves me. And I say, “I’m rubber, you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.”