'... Jenvieve began her day with a large glass of orange juice and a slice of toast covered in peanut butter. She Would probably still be fast asleep had Vesmund, her dog not of been inclined to vigorously lick her left foot.

It was early afternoon on a Tuesday, though it didn't particularly matter to Jenvieve. This was because she recently convinced her employer that her parents had been killed by a pack of rabid zeebras, while visiting Africa for the first time. As such, she would need a few weeks off to mourn their loss.

Normally at this time of day, Jenvieve would be siting at her desk counting how many times per hour Harold (who sat directly across from her) sneezed. Although mildly entertaining, she was much happier siting at the dinner table where she currently was , eating peanut butter toast, and filling her mind with the delightfull muse that was written in the paper....'