It's a tiny pill. Easy to misplace. In my throat.

You know that feeling when you take your pills for the night but you're nowhere near being tired so you grab a Xanax, and then twenty minutes later you realize that you're still keyed up and you can't remember if you actually took the Xanax or not, so you start searching your kitchen trying to think of where you could have set the pill down because you have kids and pets and Xanax would be bad for either of them so you're tearing the place apart even though it's really hard to do because you're exhausted and that's when you realize that you did, in fact, swallow the Xanax?  No? Just me? Hmm.

I just want a monkey butler. Why is that too much to ask for?

I've found a monkey table I want. But it's $180.00, which is a lot of money to spend on a table that will drive Tom nuts and possibly scare the children.  Also, it comes pre-named, and for $180.00 I think I should get the right to name my own monkey table. I certainly wouldn't name it Winston, that's for sure. I think I'd name it Zac Efron. Zac Efron the monkey butler. I like it.