Bryce's Pipe Bomb Survival Guide*

 I don't think there's anyone out there reading this blog that doesn't know me personally, but if there is, here's the context: I lost one of my cats recently. Not just ONE of my three cats, but THE cat. I had him for eight or so years, and he was as much a part of me as anything.  Obviously, I'm sad, I'm depressed, I don't want to do things with my friends, and it takes a lot more effort to get out of bed and go to work in the morning. This is all expected, and natural. Some part of me still insists that I'm somehow weak because it's still so heavily affecting me, and it's almost been a whole week! Of course, this is the irrational asshole in my consciousness, if I could get them to shut up instantly with pure logic, I'd be a much different person. So I have to work through, and argue that bastard back. I'm so used to that process, that it doesn't seem weird anymore, here's the thing that I found weird. I'm gonna say... fifte