Well, internet, I was planning on writing something awesome. Truly. No, really. I had grand designs swirling majestically through my mind.
But, well, then I got distracted, as one does, by Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law. And I forgot everything I had thought of earlier. Zoom, right out the window.
So, instead, I'm going to tell you the story about the goblin who lives in my closet and messes with my clothing at night. Poor Miss Lucy, who is often subject to my strange rantings, has already heard my story and she thinks she might have the same breed of goblin in her apartment. Maybe we have a goblin infestation in our building. It could be worse, I suppose; could be cockroaches.
Anyway, I have a goblin in my closet. For the sake of the story I have decided to name her McGill (but everyone knows her as Nancy). It is my belief that through some kind of strange goblin sorcery, McGill alters the inseam of my trousers by a centimeter each night. All of my work trousers are now at least 3 inches shorter than when I bought them. This is rather embarrassing for me, because I don't own a normal pair of socks. Now everyone at work can see my odd socks because my trousers are too short. (They are the sort of respectable people who only own all black socks. To them, my multi-color striped socks are simply uncouth.)
I can't figure out why McGill might be doing this, except that goblins are generally mischievous, but I am hoping that I can bribe her with bread and sweet milk. If she accepts these gifts, I think I might try to use her services for good. She is a fantastic seamstress; I can't see the evidence of her alterations at all.
I'll keep you all informed as to whether my attempts are successful, and I'd welcome any tips from you clever internet folk who may have dealt with goblin tailors in the past.