So my dad called me the other day and told me that he had some blankets for me and would bring them over. I didn't really need any blankets, but he's one of those people that like drops random shit off at peoples houses and weird random gifts, so I had already accepted the fact that I was going to have like an old lady afhan on display in my living room. I don't know what afgan is for really if not display, I have tried to use them in the past and found them useless as blankets, an acceptable last resort pillow, and the holes on them are too small to fuck. I bet it was like an old tradition back in the day, like those square quilts, people had family afgans that were of elaborate design and colors and proudly flung them over their couches, or folded them respectively on the recliners of old. A couple of hours after talking to him, Dad called me again. "Mike, I'm really very sorry, but we looked at the quilt and there were a couple of holes in it, but you still get the afgan." Wait, what the fuck? I've always had a sneaking suspicion that my dad breaks into peoples houses stealing random boxes out of garages, shit no one would notice, no one really wants, and then he generously re-bestows it upon humanity. Like if Robin hood had to ride the short bus, "I'll steal from everyone and give to everyone else!"