Girl Meets Boy

How sad to wake up to a gray and rainy morning from a particularly vivid, realistic dream depicting a classic tale of rejection and abandonment:

Girl loves boy; boy makes advances on another, far inferior girl; overcome by jealousy, girl takes boy off his hinges (boy is inexplicably a closet door all of a sudden, the folding kind with the little louvers) and drags him out into the front yard to plead with him, but keeps being interrupted by small children and by a neighbor who accidentally turns the hose on her, besides which boy has now become either a rug or an artificial Christmas tree and is in any case pretty unresponsive; distraught girl drives to a roadside rest area to seek the advice of an older friend, who tells her that, though boy does love girl, boy finds her completely repulsive physically; girl sadly returns home only to discover that boy, inferior girl, and the economy-size pack of condoms from yesterday's post are nowhere to be found.

It's a familiar story, probably one you've read a million times.

Um, pizza. Why do you ask?