I am a private dick
That's right, I'm Page P.I., Private Investigator. I have a theme song. there is no way i can type it here though, i've tried sounding it out but the keyboard isn't cooperating.
I am the LAZIEST P.I. though. I read the paper and comment to my husband. I think it was the wife that killed that psychologist. I update him when a new item appears, but that's about the extent of my investigative work.
yeah, yeah, lame, i know, but it keeps me entertained.
right now i must know what the hell is going on across the street. mom, stepdad, two sons in their late teens and an affable rotweiller named Harold. Now. has the stepdad moved out? things aren't adding up.... and it's driving me crazy. Moving truck i thought was for eldest son. stepdad's car has been gone. he dropped harold off and drove off the other day. I saw the mom this morning, what do you say without prying? so who moved out? can. open. worms everywhere.
Maybe I'll go back to reading the paper. That psychologist still hasn't been found and a spirit told his wife of three months that he was "gone". hmm. yeah. right. diddly diddly diddly. (my husband has corrected me, no way is it diddly diddly diddly, it is "dunna na dunna na dunna na" who knew?)
