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That your parents tell you not to talk to strangers.
It's becuase they walk up to your fence and comment on your "beautiful dog" and when you go to reply from across the way, they're hard of hearing.
"It's a beautiful evening out, isn't it?" Said I. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you,"
GAH DX
Oh well. He was a nice old.. uhm, young? Man. I wasn't wearing my glasses so I couldn't see him from across the creek ditch guardrail thing.
And yes, I AM the type to talk to strangers. It makes me all the more stalkable, yes? No, really no. Although... I can't remember anything that happened to me after I woke up this morning. I mean, it's really very fuzzy. I.. Stumbled out of bed. I remember kicking something, but I don't remember the pain or even notice it was bleeding, aparently. (I just found out that it was. And that it was badly hurt. But the pain... Just isn't there like it should be.) I also remember myself trying to remember something, but I couldn't recall what I'd forgotten. I also can't remember what crickets sound like. Just the small things that should come naturally to anyone's memory. I mean, if you're hurt, you should remember it.. But I don't.

My skin still smells like the breezy air outside from when I was swinging. Like spring. I should stay outside more often. I like the smell of spring.