No, not a treatment program.
I have recently discovered, to my surprise, that I am a character on The Electric Company.
This is mostly surprising because I thought The Electric Company went off the air in the 70's.
As it turns out, there's a new one, and 8-year-olds everywhere (and by "everywhere" I mean "at the library") are just familiar enough with it to instantly conclude upon seeing me that I am "from TV." Never mind that I am not, in fact, a 15-year old Latina rapper; we have the same hair.
Well, I guess it's always good to have a fan base.
In other news, I realized how frighteningly easily-amused I am. Quick backstory: I have a useless habit of repeating things in a schizophre-- eh, poetic -- way and putting the wrong word endings (usually from another language, though I likely get them wrong in that language as well) on things when I'm saying them in my head, just for the sake of making them sound different. Things like -dad or -itas instead instead of -ity or -ness, -mente instead of -ly, and -en instead of -s for plurals. I don't always notice I'm doing it, which I suppose should be worrisome.
Anyhow, it was the last one that figures in today's tale. I was ... well, you know I have a gecko, right? Because that will cut down on a lot of explanation here about why I was putting morio worms in an ashtray. Anyhow, I was talking to myself about how the dish was deep enough to contain the beetles, but was it enough for the worms ... the wyrms ... the wyrmen ... VERMIN! And then I ran to my dictionary to confirm that "worm" was in fact the root for "vermin," and was excessively pleased that it was, because I do not have a life.
Some of you may be slightly more squeamish than would allow for my safely posting an image of my tub-o-worms, so we'll go safer and post some pretty pink blumen:
Pretty, yeah? Go outside, enjoy the weather, don't be like me and sit alone in your room inventing a new type of screwdriver ... wait, no, that was someone else who also spends most of the day living in a box.