Stages of Mourning
All right, Kaela, since you asked, here you go. See the kind of love I have for you? It’s impossible to see how bad this because taking the photo yourself while using one hand to keep the garment from falling down around your waist is tough. You just have to believe it’s bad. This is the denial stage of mourning. This is the, it couldn’t be that bad, could it oh god it could it really is that bad no no no no no say it ain’t so Joe, stage.
The next stage is anger. Here I am Buffying the evil vampire tank. Take that, prince of halter darkness. I could totally be the Slayer.
Here is the Slayed Halter From Beyond The Black Grave of the Swamp Monster, just before it poofed into spectacular dust. Poof.
The next stage is grief. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
Then acceptance. Life goes on. Even for bastard uncooperative yarn. Wait. Do you notice something here? Could it be? Has the evil spawn halter been reincarnated as a pleasant stripe in a baby sweater? Why (cue sunshine and blue birds twittering) it is! Tra la la la la.
