Someone told me my sweater was "bitchin'."
I had pad thai for lunch.
I went to the post office to mail cookies to my grandmother but I couldn't find the size box I wanted, my coat was all of a sudden too heavy, the place was crowded, and they were playing "Baker Street" over the radio. It was horrible, horrible, horrible, so I gathered up my cookies and fled. Is that what a panic attack feels like?