The incredulity files

I tried. I really did.

Walking up the doom stairs to my class earlier this week, I came upon the following sign on the door of a lecture hall. This, after only having made it up 2 flights of the 5000 I had yet to traverse:

"Do to instructor's illness, class will be canceled..."

InsideLaurie: Fitful impulse to wheel around, usher people from my war path and with red pen deface the sign to instruct on proper word usage.

OutsideLaurie: (Inside voice) "Where is that red pen in my bag? It must...be here....somewhere..." Shuffling of bag contents ensued.
This interlude allowed me to catch my breath on the trip up the Mount-Everest-rapid-altitude-changing stairs. So all was not lost. It just went down the tubes into the sewer where all erratic and sloppy writing festers.

Later that day:

Running errands, I passed a vacuum repair shop. They have a frightful clown statue outside the doors. It stands a good 7 feet in the air. Stick thin. Features that make Stephen King's It clown look like Snoopy. And the thing moves on its own accord. Swinging its gloved hands back and forth. Horrific, I'm telling you. I shouldn't be allowed on the streets to see this kind of thing. Nor in the academic buildings, it seems.

Another day. Another peculiarity (or two).