I love cemeteries. Not in a morbid depressing way, though I do have a dark sense of humor (Martin Macdonagh is not your favorite playwright unless you’re kind of a freak). Anyway, I feel the need to justify this love because of the looks I get when I mention it. So let me clarify. I do not have a morbid fascination with death, it’s not necromancy, and it’s not related to dark ritualistic practices, crime, or anything remotely bizarre.
Last weekend, my friend and I decided it would be a great idea to handcuff ourselves together and head out to dinner. Why? I mean, why not!? I own a pair of those novelty fuzzy handcuffs as most people my age do (right??? Back me up here…) and I’ve never used them! What an absolute travesty… So clearly the opportune time was immediately.